


Your Song

by chaostheoryy



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Bars and Pubs, Feelings Realization, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, M/M, Musician!Shane, Pianist!Shane, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:54:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23317960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaostheoryy/pseuds/chaostheoryy
Summary: Disappointed that Shane has suddenly stopped attending their weekly hangout sessions, Ryan decides to find out the reasoning behind his best friend's unexpected separation. To his surprise, his snooping uncovers a secret about Shane's life that Ryan never expected to find.
Relationships: Ryan Bergara & Shane Madej, Ryan Bergara/Shane Madej
Comments: 135
Kudos: 279





	1. Chapter 1

One of the things about Shane that truly bothered Ryan was that Shane was a true professional when it came to keeping secrets. If there was something he didn’t want someone to know, he would keep it hidden from them with a skill that even private investigators would be envious of. He was a keep-to-himself kind of guy, always had been. So, of course there were things about his life that Ryan wasn’t aware of.

But if there was one thing about Ryan that truly bothered Shane, it was that Ryan was nosy. If there was a secret buried anywhere within his vicinity, he would sniff it out like a slobbery bloodhound and swallow it whole. All he needed was one little hint and the hunt could begin. After all, he was a master of research with the stubborn willpower of a man who wouldn’t quit until he spat in the face of Satan himself. So, naturally, when Shane started declining Ryan’s invitations to go out on Friday nights after work, his nasty little curiosity spiked.

“Is he mad at me?”

Katie looked up from her laptop.

“‘Scuse me?”

“Shane,” Ryan clarified, “Is he mad at me or something? We always go out on Fridays but the past three weeks, he’s been coming up with shitty ass excuses not to.”

“Have you considered that it might be because he actually has a life outside of work?”

Ryan frowned in response to her sarcasm.

“Oh, ha ha,” he grumbled as he crossed his arms, “Seriously though. Has he said anything to you?”

Katie sighed.

“No he hasn’t. And honestly, if he was pissed at you for some reason, I don’t think he’d bring it up in front of me. I’m his producer, not his mother. How he feels about other people isn’t any of my business.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“You guess?”

Ryan threw her a contemptuous look when he saw her eyes narrow.

“Fine. I know you’re right.”

“Thank you,” she said with a proud smile. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I gotta take another look at these call sheets for the Phoenix Lights shoot. I don’t want half the crew rolling in two hours late like last time.”

“You got it, boss.”

He gave her a little salute before returning to his desk to finish up his next Unsolved monologue. He didn’t get very far though. A half hour after he sat down, his curiosity began clawing at the back of his mind again. Peering over the divider that separated his desk from Shane’s, he found his partner’s empty chair staring back at him. The sight made Ryan’s mood drop. 

What could have possibly happened to make Shane bail on their weekly outings? It’s not like the big guy was ill or anything like that. He’d shown up to work on time every day since they’d begun preproduction for the new season and was always his chipper, if not obnoxious self. There was no sign of growing tension between them and no indication whatsoever that Shane’s desire for close friendship had dissipated.

_Then why?_

Ryan ground his teeth for a moment before looking around the office. There were no more than a half-dozen people at their desks nearby and all of them had their eyes glued to their screens in intense concentration. Perfect. No one would notice if he took a quick peek at Shane’s workspace then.

He slunk around to the other side of the desk and carefully planted himself in Shane’s chair. For someone as horrifyingly chaotic as Shane, the desk was surprisingly clean. Aside from the random post-it notes scattered about, the area was well-kept. Unlike Ryan’s pig sty of a workspace, there was no trash laying around in wait and no desktop calendar littered with chicken scratch notes about upcoming deadlines underneath his keyboard. How someone could be a walking cryptid and still be more organized than half the people in the office, Ryan would never understand.

With a click of the tongue and a furrowed brow, Ryan began perusing the post-it notes. Surely there had to be something here that could give him even a slight hint as to what was going on in Shane’s life. After a few sweeps across the desktop and a couple subtle (he was being a bit of a creep after all) peeks into the drawers, he came across a neon yellow post-it with a vague note scribbled on it:

**_RED LION_ **

**_SILVER LAKE_ **

**_8 - 11_ **

**_1/13 - 3/10_ **

The hungry private eye that was huddled in the corner of Ryan’s brain jumped to his feet and lunged after the note. This had to be something. The last part of the note was obvious: a date range. January 13th through March 10th. Cross checking the dates with the calendar on his phone, it was revealed that both ends landed on Friday.

It took every ounce of strength for Ryan not to throw his fist into the air in celebration. This was it. The reason Shane was shying away from their weekly outings. Now all he needed to do was decipher what the first part of the note meant.

Fearing someone would discover his prying and rat him out to Shane (or even worse: human resources), he took a quick photo of the post-it and slipped it back inside the drawer he’d taken it from. Another look around the room to confirm no one was watching and he was hurrying back over to his own desk to continue his snooping. The great thing about the situation was that not a single person in the office would bat an eye if they saw Ryan Bergara waist-high in the waters of a wild Google search.

“Red Lion” on its own produced as much useful information as someone asking Shane the question, “are ghosts real?” All the results were links to Red Lion hotels in the Los Angeles area and Yelp suggestions for tourist-ridden restaurants and entertainment venues located near said hotels. While there was a remote possibility that Shane was using one of these Red Lions for an escape from reality or a romantic rendezvous with a secret lover, Ryan’s doubt weighed heavy on his shoulders. Shane may be a certified dipshit, but he certainly wasn’t stupid enough to run away to a 2.8 star Red Lion. 

Google’s result for “Red Lion Silver Lake”, however, gave Ryan a suggestion that made his brow hike up his forehead. It wasn’t a hotel that the search engine spat out this time, but rather a German tavern just a hop, skip, and jump away from the Silver Lake Reservoir and I-5. The establishment was highly rated and boasted a quaint European vibe that all but screamed Shane’s name.

The corner of Ryan’s mouth curled upward with a smile. This was where Shane was going on Friday nights.

He opened the tavern’s website and started reading. Their beer list was massive and their daily menu boasted all of Germany’s coveted delicacies from pretzels and strudel to schnitzel and goulash. There were specials listed for game nights and sporting events and even discounted rates for karaoke.

It was the entertainment calendar that caught Ryan’s eye though. Every Friday night, as far as the page could list, there was “Piano Players Downstairs from 8 to 11” listed on the schedule. The little private eye inside his brain gave him the chef’s kiss. _Voila_!

A devilish thought popped into Ryan’s head: what if he scared the shit out of Shane by showing up at the tavern that night? He could play it off as though he just so happened to be in the right place at the right time and caught Shane grabbing a drink. It was definitely a better option than busting down the door and screaming, “hey, I rummaged through your desk like a big fat creep and followed you here ‘cause I’m a jealous asshole and want to spend more time with you!”

He frowned. Yeah, that wouldn’t pan out well for either party. But, weird or not, Ryan was going. He needed to know who this visiting piano player was that had captured Shane’s interest. After all, it had to be someone pretty damn good for Shane to break their habitual celebrations and commit to visiting the tavern every week.

A sliver of Ryan’s soul hoped it was Elton John.

* * *

Ryan left the office just after five o’clock, giving himself plenty of time to go to his apartment and change before he unleashed his dastardly surprise attack on Shane. The second he stepped foot in the comfort of his home, he made a beeline for the bathroom and drew himself a hot shower. He knew the whole thing was silly, if not borderline psychotic. Honestly, what kind of weirdo hunts down his best friend and follows him to a bar he’s never even been to? Sounded like something he’d be reading about in one of his True Crime cases…

He stared at his reflection in the mirror for a moment when he stepped out of the shower. Was he really going to do this? Was he actually going to stroll into a random German pub in Silver Lake looking like a million bucks just to scare the living shit out of Shane Madej and give himself some leverage with which to taunt the big guy down the line?

Yeah, he fucking was.

With a confident smirk that would have made the infamous Ricky Goldsworth proud, Ryan slicked his hair back in a perfect coif. He made a couple passes at his closet, eyes on the prowl for the perfect look. He had to dress nicely of course, but not _too_ nice. God knows Shane would lay into him if he showed up to a schnitzel-serving tavern looking like James Bond. So, forgoing the temptation to make his mother proud by wearing a suit and tie, he settled for a pair of black slacks and a navy blue dress shirt.

Once he had his oxfords on and a leather belt wrapped snugly around his hips, he gave himself a once over in the mirror. The satisfaction that swelled in his chest was undeniable. He was by no means a show-off, but he wasn’t afraid to acknowledge when he looked good. And boy was he looking _good_.

Ryan grinned from ear to ear. He couldn’t wait to see the look on Shane’s stupid face.


	2. Chapter 2

“Guten Abend!”

Ryan blinked and gave the hostess an awkward wave of the hand as he walked through the door. 

“Will you be dining upstairs or joining us for the performance in the downstairs lounge?” 

“Downstairs, please,” he replied, peering over her shoulder at the boxy, bustling area behind her, “Preferably at the bar if you’ve got any room.”

“The bar’s open seating so feel free to look around.”

He nodded and shyly uttered his thanks before slinking between the candle-lit tables to the oak bar in the back of the room. Sure enough, there were several open seats, one of which gave him the perfect view of the entire space and came with a direct line of sight to the stage on the opposite side of the room. A grand piano sat in the center with various mic stands and instruments huddled around it in a semi-circle like some kind of orchestral group therapy.

Gazing around the room, Ryan was surprised to discover that Shane was nowhere to be found. With less than a half hour until showtime, it was unusual. Shane was the kind of guy to be at a theater before the previews even started rolling so it was highly unlikely that he would be that loser that came clambering in during the opening act. And hell, if he _was_ here, Ryan would know. Hard to miss the Jolly Green Giant mingling amongst the plebs.

“Don’t tell me tonight is the one fucking time you don’t show,” he muttered under his breath as his eyes swept the room yet again.

“Can I get you something to drink, sir?”

Ryan nearly leaped out of his shoes. The bartender who had spoken up from behind him laughed.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you!”

“That’s alright. I’m just— Wow. Really jumpy I guess.”

He paused to catch his breath, palm resting on his chest.

“Uhhhh…Can I get a Radeberger Pilsner?”

“You bet.”

“Thanks.”

He turned back toward the room. It wasn’t until he took another look at the space and those occupying it that he realized a good majority of the patrons were women, many of whom were in their late twenties and early thirties. Maybe this piano guy was a real sight for sore eyes and feminine hearts.

“Here you are, sir.”

Ryan flinched again at the sound of the bartender’s voice and found his cheeks growing warm with embarrassment as he turned around to accept the drink.

“Sorry. I promise you’re not a frightening dude,” Ryan explained, “I just get caught up in my head a lot.”

The bartender waved the comment off with a chuckle.

“I feel ya, man. We all get that way sometimes.”

“Yeah…” Ryan paused to take a sip of his beer. “So what’s the deal with this piano player? He some young prodigy or something? There’s a lotta girls in here looking like they’re one sip of martini away from drooling on the stage.”

“He’s one of our most popular musicians so far. Started up about a few weeks ago and has been here every Friday night since. He’s no Chris Hemsworth but I could see why the ladies are into him. I will tell you this though: he’s one hell of a performer.”

“Oh yeah?”

The bartender nodded as he continued, “When he gets up there, he’s all in. Trust me, if he whips out any of the hits like last week, everyone in here is gonna go berserk.”

A customer down the line raised their glass and the bartender excused himself, leaving Ryan alone with his wandering mind and fresh pint. The more he thought about it, the more he realized how on-brand the whole scene was for Shane. An authentic German tavern with hot pretzels and a live piano player cranking out classic white man party jams? Of course the big guy was drawn to this place.

He glanced at his phone and pursed his lips. It was already 7:50pm and Shane was still a no-show. Of course, the one night Ryan goes out of his way to be slick and try to pull one over his friend, Shane decides to be a couch potato. Real nice.

Disappointment settled over him like a blanket. As odd as it was, he had wanted this so bad. Shane always seemed to be three steps ahead of him in everything — conversation, planning, meme-sharing. It didn’t matter what they were doing or how new it was for the both of them, Shane was always one-upping him and, frankly, Ryan was more than ready to turn the tables and be the one with the winning hand.

Determined to take his mind off the displeasure, he started scanning the pictures and memorabilia on the walls around him as he waited for the performer to take the stage. He may not have gotten to see his plan come to fruition, but he wasn’t going to waste his night wallowing in self-pity. May as well down a few beers and enjoy the music like everybody else.

A roar of applause erupted from the crowd, drawing his gaze to the stage across the room. A small group of musicians took their places at the various instruments, all of them appearing to be younger than thirty-five years old. Ryan took a long sip as the last member took to the stage with a long, almost inhuman step and turned to give the audience a wave.

Ryan choked.

There, standing center stage with the spotlight illuminating his entire body like a holy beacon, was Shane.

He nearly folded in half as a violent coughing fit racked his body. Beer had shot down his windpipe and pooled in his nose like a hot spring, making it feel as though his entire respiratory system had been coated in lava.

“ _What_ … _the_ … _fuck_ ,” he gasped between coughs.

A heavyset man seated next to him looked over in concern and gave him a firm pat on the back.

“You alright, man?”

Ryan nodded and coughed a couple more times before the burning in his throat finally subsided and gave his lungs the chance to reconfigure themselves.

“I’m good,” he said hoarsely, “Just great.”

“I can tell,” the stranger laughed, “Might wanna take it easy on the alcohol.”

Ryan let out an awkward chuckle and side-eyed his counterpart for a moment before letting himself re-focus on the stage just in time to see Shane take his place at the piano. A wave of confusion rolled over Ryan at the sight. Shane’s lanky legs barely fit beneath the keys and he was all but hunched over just trying to put himself in a proper position to play. But as weird as it was to see him seated on stage like that, it also made complete sense. Shane was a performer. He enjoyed being the center of attention in so many situations, like taking his place at the heart of the conversations or writing peculiar yet catchy tunes for his stupid hot dog saga. 

It just never occurred to Ryan that Shane would be _that_ kind of performer.

“Guten Abend,” Shane said into the mic once he had settled on the comically small seat in front of the piano, “Some of you might remember me from one of my previous visits, most notably the one where I fell off the stage and into a grandmother’s beer cheese…But for those of you who don’t know me, my name is Shane and I’ll be your ivory tickler for the evening.”

A few audience members cheered, making Shane laugh.

“Thanks, mom,” he joked with a wave at one of the booths up front, “It’s a little nippy out there tonight and I know how sensitive you California lilies are so thanks for braving the brisk sixty-two degree weather to see me tonight. In exchange for your patronage, I will refrain from making jokes about the Lakers, Pink’s Hot Dogs, and the Chinese Theater. I am warning you now though, In-N-Out is fair game so if you’re an ‘animal fries til I die’ kinda person, I suggest you leave now.”

Ryan couldn’t help the grin that found its way onto his face as he watched Shane interact with the audience and crack a few more shameless jokes. This was Shane in his element. Even from the back of the room, he could tell there was a twinkle in the big guy’s eye. If there was one thing in the world Shane Madej was meant to do, it was make people smile.

“Alright, enough of this horseshit,” Shane said after a few minutes, “None of you ventured down here to listen to me rail into the great state of California. You all came for the music, didn’t you?”

The audience cheered. Ryan shrugged slightly to himself. Guess he was technically there for the music too.

“Well, without further ado, _it’s-a-me_.”

Shane turned to face the keys and cracked his knuckles in a goofy, cartoonish fashion that would have made Bugs Bunny proud. Then, with a final steadying breath of preparation, he let his fingers fly. 

Ryan’s jaw nearly fell to the floor as Shane’s hands danced across the keys to the fast-paced rhythm of Billy Joel’s “Prelude/Angry Young Man”. Cranking out a tune that registered at over one-hundred and fifty beats per minute, Shane’s fingers seemed to be moving at light speed. Where in the world had he learned how to play like _that_? And how the fuck had he kept that a secret from Ryan for so long?

To everyone’s surprise, Shane came to an abrupt stop just before the two minute “Prelude” rolled into the first verse of “Angry Young Man”. A hush fell over the audience as they all —Ryan included— gaped at him in anticipation. Shane smiled smugly over his right shoulder and pretended to flip the pages of an invisible songbook.

“Wrong one.”

Laughter rolled through the crowd like a soothing wave. Several people clapped in approval of the joke. Ryan rolled his eyes at his friend’s all-too-familiar antics but there was no denying that the confidence exuding from Shane’s on-stage persona was making his heart race in ways it never had before. Shane bore a smile so exuberant that it was contagious and self-assurance seemed to radiate from every inch of his body, making it clear to everyone in the room that he not only deserved to be there but that he was thriving because of it.

“Let’s start over, shall we?”

Shane brushed a few loose strands of hair back before striking the keys once again. This time, the slow melody of “Scenes from an Italian Restaurant” began pouring out of the piano. Ryan’s eyes scanned the stage to see which of the band members would be taking lead on vocals but within seconds the answer to his internal inquiry came forth as Shane crooned, “ _A bottle of white…a bottle of red…perhaps a bottle of rosé instead_.”

The glass of beer in Ryan’s hand nearly plummeted to the floor. He was in complete shock. Not only was Shane a skilled pianist, he was also a talented singer with excellent range and a smooth voice that complimented the sound of his instrument. With the tune sweeping slow and graceful, it felt like Ryan was peering into Shane’s very soul. Even from the back of the room, it felt incredibly intimate and made his knees feel as though they were one wrong breath away from buckling under his weight.

After a minute and a half, the song transitioned from the romantic melody to the upbeat verse about family and aging. The mesmerizing grin of delight returned to Shane’s face, bringing the emotional climate of the room to its first great peak. Everyone was bobbing their heads and tapping their feet to the rhythm of the song. Not a single audience member could tear their eyes off the stage. There was something magical happening and it was melting Ryan’s brain.

A massive round of applause swept through the room when the song was finished. Shane waved his hand and stood up, ripping his microphone from its holder.

“Stop it, stop it!”

The applause swiftly faded. He paused for a second, staring at the audience with those beady Even-The-Mothman-Is-Weirded-Out-By-Me eyes. Then, when the room was eerily quiet, his lips curled into a cheeky grin.

“I just wanted you guys to save the effort of clapping,” he said playfully, “I mean, honestly, if you do that after every song for the rest of the night, your hands are gonna get tired. I promise I won’t be offended if you all abstain from the centuries-old custom of applause.”

He returned to his seat and placed the mic back on the stand. 

“Except you,” Shane added, pointing at a random ginger-haired man in the front, “You better fucking clap.”

Ryan could faintly hear the stranger stutter out an “I will” in response.

“Good ‘cause I’m counting on ya. Now, where was I…? Oh yes.” 

His fingers began their dance once again, bringing forth the melancholic tune of “Mia & Sebastian’s Theme” from _La La Land_. It was short and sweet, lasting just over a minute and a half. But even with such a limited amount of time to appreciate the tune, Ryan could feel a weight lowering itself onto his heart as he listened. The song seemed to dig right into his core, bringing back memories of Helen and even digging up a new sense of longing he didn’t even know was buried inside of him.

“Get ready. He’s going to do a big one next.”

Ryan jumped at the voice behind him, beer sloshing out of his glass and onto his shoes. Grimacing, he turned to face the bartender.

“So, is this gonna be a thing you do to me the rest of the night or what,” he blurted as he placed the dripping glass on the bar.

“I’m so sorry, sir. Let me get you a rag.”

The bartender rushed into the back room and returned with a clean dish towel. Ryan thanked him and sat down on the barstool to wipe his shoes. 

“Can I get you anything else? I feel bad for ruining your shoes so if you want any food or anything, it’s on me.”

“It’s alright,” Ryan reassured him, “My inability to keep from jumping out of my skin definitely isn’t your fault. Trust me, Shane pulls shit like this on me all the time and he refuses to let me hear the end of it.”

“Shane? As in _that_ Shane?”

Ryan paused his drying and looked up to see the bartender’s brow was cocked a mile high and his index finger was pointing directly at the stage. He immediately wanted nothing more than to shove his foot up his own ass. 

_Way to go, Ryan_ , he thought to himself, _you’re supposed to be sneaking around trying to catch the big guy off guard and here you are blabbing to a stranger at the bar_.

“Uh, yeah,” he admitted as his cheeks flushed slightly, “Shane’s my— Well, I guess you could say we’re partners.”

“Oh, really? Never occurred to me that he’d swing that way.”

Ryan was confused for a moment but, after a brief conversational replay, he realized exactly what the bartender was insinuating. His face grew even hotter.

“Shit! Wait, no, that’s not what I meant! He’s my work partner not… _that_ kind of partner.”

“Ah, I see,” the bartender laughed.

The room suddenly erupted in a deafening cheer as Shane started singing “Crocodile Rock”. Ryan looked back over at the stage to see the big guy on his feet, hands slamming down on the keys with enough energy to power an entire city. He wasn’t holding anything back now. When he hit the post-chorus, everyone in the room shouted the iconic “la la la”s along with him, bringing the atmosphere to a new level of excitement.

Ryan watched Shane’s performance in silence, too caught up in his head to join the crowd in their fervent singing. He knew he probably looked like some smitten teenager but he couldn’t help it. He was witnessing a side of his best friend he had never truly seen before and, if he was being honest with himself, he loved it. 

A pang of jealousy shot down Ryan’s spine as Shane winked at one of the tables directly in front of the stage. It was an expression of confidence and playfulness and it didn’t mean shit, but he couldn’t help the grudge that was developing. More often than not, Shane’s attention-seeking would be directed at Ryan. All the stupid jokes, silly faces, and goofy food-inspired songs that Shane would put together for the sake of laughter were almost always meant to elicit a response from _him_. So, to see Shane on stage performing for the approval of other people made Ryan feel as though a privilege was being ripped from his hands.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Ryan muttered to himself.

He turned his back to the stage and flagged the bartender down so he could order another beer.

“You want me to wait ’til you finish that one or grab it now?”

“This bad boy’s going down the hatch ASAP,” he replied, “The sooner the better.”

The bartender watched with a mixture of awe and concern as he chugged the remaining half of his glass. 

“Copy that. Another Radeberger coming right up.”

With his first pint down, Ryan happily accepted the second. There was a fire burning in him that he had no intention of starting, one that was fueled by jealousy and a potpourri of other feelings he had no urge to dive into. If he had any hope of getting through the remainder of the night without getting scorched by said fire, he was going to have to drown it in beer.

Fortunately for him, the following fifteen minutes were dominated by the singing crowd and not by Shane’s voice. The sheer volume and pitch of it all made it easy for Ryan to tune everything out and focus on the drink in his hand. So determined to avoid looking back at the stage, he had stooped to scrolling through Twitter on his phone. It was childish and pathetic but he couldn’t help himself. The last thing he needed in his life was to come to terms with the fact that he was foolishly falling head over heels for his best friend.

The chanting and applause in the room gradually faded until Shane’s presence dominated the scene once again.

“Alright, alright, we’ve had our fun,” he said, voice a little hoarse from singing, “I love me a rowdy bunch, but I think it’s time we slow it down and get in touch with those _deeper_ feelings.”

As much as Ryan wanted to ignore the talking and read through the “10 Reasons Kobe is Better Than LeBron” thread he had discovered on his feed, he couldn’t help but overhear Shane’s monologue.

“Love blows, doesn’t it? You put your heart out on a silver platter for somebody and they chew it up raw and spit it back in your face. It sucks the life right out of ya.”

A murmur of agreement echoed from some audience members.

“But you know what? Sometimes it’s worth it. If you’ve found that primo chicken nugget in the batch of really mediocre chicken nuggets, you just gotta say ‘ _fuck it_ ’ and risk it all for that gorgeous little, golden-brown nug.”

Shane paused as someone in the crowd spoke. After a moment, he laughed.

“Sir, it’s a metaphor. I’m not actually suggesting that we humans should fall in love with our deep fried delicacies.”

Soft waves of laughter rolled through the crowd.

“Anyway, this one’s for all the Romeo and Juliets whose hearts ache for their beloved chicken nuggets.”

The familiar, sorrowful melody of Lewis Capaldi’s “Someone You Loved” wafted through the air. Every person in the room went completely silent, giving Shane the opportunity to soak up the limelight once again. 

Ryan tried with all his might not to turn around but by the middle of the first verse, Shane’s voice had lured him back in like the call of a siren. Capaldi’s song was so raw and so vulnerable that there was an inherent tendency for it to make people emotional. But for Ryan, hearing the expression of pain and yearning come from Shane’s mouth had an even more powerful effect. He felt frozen in place, unable to even blink as he watched Shane pour his heart and soul into the ballad. There was no way for him to know exactly what was going on inside the big guy’s head but he wasn’t oblivious. The longing in the performance was completely genuine, and the second Shane started belting the beautifully fervent bridge, tears began welling in Ryan’s eyes.

He wasn’t even aware of his own crying until the first teardrop brushed past his lip. He blinked rapidly, cursing to himself as he wiped his eyes with the heel of his palm. What the hell was wrong with him? The plan was to surprise Shane by crashing his Friday night plans, not get drunk on imported beer and cry at the bar like a father of three who had just filed for divorce.

The final note of the song faded and a tremendous applause overtook the room. And this time, Ryan had no choice but to clap along with them. What Shane had just done was truly impressive and deserved recognition from everyone who witnessed it.

“Hey! I thought I told you not to clap,” Shane shouted, “Jerks.”

Laughter trickled back into the room when he pointed at the ginger-haired stranger in the front row and commanded him to continue his applause.

“Very good. Keep it up. Now, I expect you _all_ to go batshit crazy for this one, alright? If I don’t hear every single one of you screaming the chorus like wild banshees, I’m walking right outta here and I ain’t comin’ back.”

When it became clear after the first few notes that the next tune was “Sweet Caroline”, the crowd went wild. Everyone was on their feet, jaws unhinged as they belted out the legendary chorus. The vibrancy that had taken over the room was so infectious that Ryan couldn’t help but sing along too. For the first time that entire night, he felt like he had truly joined the crowd in returning the high-spirited energy Shane had been feeding them all.

Whether it was the alcohol flowing in his blood or the newfound comfort of being a part of something bigger than himself, he spent the rest of the set singing and dancing to every song. “Saturday Night’s Alright for Fighting” took the place over like a whirling tornado and sent him into an absolute frenzy. Downing his third pint, he jumped around like a hyperactive kangaroo and nearly draped himself over the back of a stranger as they danced and caroled along. There was a feeling of unadulterated joy bubbling inside him that he all but prayed to last forever. After all, he didn’t want to be forced to listen to that little voice in the back of his head that kept whispering its affections for the man on stage.

Several songs and another half-pint later, Shane’s set came to an end. The applause with which he was sent off was an overpowering sound — a T-Rex could have roared in Ryan’s ear and he wouldn’t have heard it. And he was no fool. The big guy had truly earned that recognition. 

He watched as the musicians packed their instruments for the night and Shane wandered over to strike up a conversation with the red-haired man in the front, no doubt thanking him for his participation. That stupid pang of bitterness began festering in Ryan’s gut when he saw Shane throw his head back in hearty laughter. Who was that guy to make Shane laugh like that? Ten bucks said Ryan could do better.

He chugged the rest of his beer and let his eyes follow Shane through the room until it suddenly became clear that the big guy was headed his way. Fear overcame him like a disease. The whole plan had been to seize the upper hand and surprise his best friend by catching him throwing back drinks at the bar. But, with a belly full of beer and no idea how to cope with the feelings that had started brewing inside him, Ryan was the one who deserved to be blackmailed.

Acting on a rush of adrenaline, he ripped sixty bucks out of his wallet and dropped it on the bar next to his empty glass. Then, with his head hung low, he all but sprinted for the bathroom.

_Please don’t see me. Please don’t see me. Please don’t— Fuck!_

He grimaced as his shin came slamming into a chair leg with the fury of a military airstrike. That was definitely going to leave a bruise.

He uttered a quick apology to the stranger sitting in the chair and hurriedly ducked into the men’s room. Once the door was closed behind him, he shuffled over to one of the over-the-sink mirrors to survey the damage the alcohol had issued to his appearance. With his hair a little disheveled and sleeves rolled up to his biceps, he looked just about as relaxed as he’d felt during the final half of the show: drunk but not trashed.

“What the hell am I doing,” he breathed.

His eyes quickly ripped away from his reflection as the bathroom door swung open and the familiar drawl of Shane’s voice began bouncing off the tiled walls of Ryan’s provisional sanctuary.

“I’ll be right there, guys,” Shane called to someone in the main lounge, “I just gotta take a leak.”

He was about to step inside but one of his unseen counterparts shot him a follow up question, buying Ryan just enough time to flee into one of the open stalls before the big guy could catch him in the act of snooping. 

“Just a pretzel is good enough for me, man. If you wanna go crazy and order an entire feast, be my guest!”

Ryan’s heart was in his throat. He stood with his legs spread wide and palms pressed flat against the stall door, mentally fighting to keep Shane from busting it down and discovering him. Swallowing, he focused all of his attention on listening to his surroundings. He became hyper aware of every sound in the room from his own quiet breathing to the high-pitched squeak of thick-soled shoes on wet tile. Despite looking at nothing but the lightly graffitied door directly in front of his eyes, he could just about picture _exactly_ what Shane was doing: his lips puckered up as he started letting out a jovial whistle, his feet planted firmly beneath him when he came to a halt at the urinal, and he swiftly unzipped the fly of his pants to pull out his—

Ryan slammed his eyes shut and shook his head. 

_Oh fuck, fuck, fuck. Please don’t think about that._

He waited with bated breath as Shane finished his business and washed his hands. A blanket of silence fell over the bathroom and Ryan’s curiosity coaxed him into peering through the crack of the stall. 

Shane was still standing at the sink, running his wet hands through his hair in an attempt to tame his wild brown locks. Even though his view was far from perfect, Ryan could take in the big guy’s visage just as clearly he could when he was watching him perform. Clad in navy blue slacks and matching jacket with a sleek black dress shirt, the normally flannel-bound six foot five man had just as much sex appeal as Justin Timberlake. He was practically glowing with pride and the gleam of self-confidence in his eye as he looked himself over in the mirror made Ryan’s knees weak.

With a final adjustment of his shirt, Shane nodded to himself and disappeared out into the bar, leaving Ryan alone in the bathroom once again. His lungs finally allowed him to fully exhale and he immediately found himself blushing when he realized just how close he had come to getting caught. He’d taken a huge risk coming to the tavern to figure out why his best friend had suddenly lost interest in spending their Fridays together and, to an extent, it had paid off. The only problem now was that by discovering Shane’s secret, he had inadvertently unearthed one of his own.

 _Jesus fucking Christ_ , he thought to himself as he slammed his forehead against the stall door in frustration, _I’ve got a fucking crush on Shane_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you wish to listen along to the music in the chapter, here's the set list:  
> 1\. “Prelude/Angry Young Man” by Billy Joel (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M2iNLt_hUZg)  
> 2\. “Scenes from an Italian Restaurant” by Billy Joel (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rdAvFvDVXSk)  
> 3\. “Mia & Sebastian’s Theme” from La La Land (https://youtu.be/D3ovuBdbUqk)  
> 4\. “Crocodile Rock” by Elton John (https://youtu.be/xw0EozkBWuI)  
> 5\. “Someone You Loved” by Lewis Capaldi (https://youtu.be/AyCrypt1pdI)  
> 6\. “Sweet Caroline” by Neil Diamond (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GmK5_lnQUbE)  
> 7\. “Saturday Night’s Alright for Fighting” by Elton John (https://youtu.be/26wEWSUUsUc)


	3. Chapter 3

Ryan woke on Saturday morning with a raging headache and a strong hankering for Jack in the Box tacos. Thanks to the thick curtains hanging over his window, his room was still relatively dark. But with his alarm clock reading 12:04pm, he knew perfectly well that the sun was ceremoniously glaring down at the earth with a righteous fury. Rolling over with a groan, he grabbed his phone from the nightstand and quickly discovered there were half a dozen messages awaiting his attention.

He sighed and started reading through them. Most of the messages were work related, including a somewhat threatening text from Katie about making sure to bring his call sheet with him to the next shoot. If there was one thing he’d taken away from working with her on Unsolved it was that if you forgot something on set, she’d never let it go.

Aside from the Unsolved-centric texts, there was a reminder from his mom about an upcoming family reunion and, even more amusing, an unprompted shirtless Kylo Ren meme from Shane. The image made Ryan snort.

He sent a quick response to all the messages —Shane’s meme included— before locking up his phone and forcing himself out of bed. The second he was on his feet, the thrumming pain in his head skyrocketed. Regret and shame settled over him like a rain cloud. What had he been thinking? Drowning his feelings in beer like a spry twenty-something was not an activity he should be diving into on Friday nights, especially when he was supposed to be running errands over the weekend.

The shower he took that morning was one of the longest he’d ever indulged himself in. Fragmented images of the previous night came rushing back to him as he washed away the hair product that remained caked against his scalp. Snippets of sound slipped through his ears, sending his mind in a spiral. He could practically smell the beer that had been his hand and feel the polished wood of the bar top underneath his fingertips. A roar of applause sent vibrations through his body and suddenly he was standing alone in a black void space where the only thing he could see was Shane sitting at a piano with his hooded eyes locked on the keys. He swallowed and dared to let his imagination take him for a ride.

_As Shane played a soft melody, Ryan slowly crossed the expanse of nothingness. It was a paradox: never ending yet not at all bound by any of Nature’s laws. Somehow a trek that felt like it took hours also seemed to pass in seconds flat and suddenly, before he could even wrap his head around it, he was standing right beside the piano._

_He watched in silence as Shane’s fingers galloped across the keys like dancers in a waltz. It was beautiful and baffling and captivated Ryan like nothing ever had before. He was seeing something wonderful —something sacred—and he was honored._

_Shane had not batted an eye since Ryan had wandered over to him. All the big guy seemed able to focus on was the methodical yet graceful movements of his hands. Curious, Ryan reached out to touch the instrument in front of him but the second his finger was a breath away from contact, Shane’s hands froze. The gorgeous music that had enveloped the space came to a stop and an eery silence fell in its place._

_“What’re you doing?”_

_Shane’s eyes were on him now. The question wasn’t aggressive or accusatory, but Ryan felt vulnerable nonetheless._

_“I don’t know,” he stammered nervously, “I just— I guess I just wanted to know what it felt like.”_

_“To play? Or to be the only one I play for?”_

_“Both.”_

_Without a word, Shane slid down the bench away from him and made an odd nodding gesture. Ryan furrowed his brow to which Shane patted the empty seat next to him in clarification. The invitation became clear._

_“Come on,” Shane said with the slightest grin when he noticed his companion’s hesitation, “I kept the seat warm for ya.”_

_Ryan let out a soft chuckle and sat down in front of the piano. He immediately felt out of place. The ebony and ivory keyboard that lay before him felt as familiar as a foreign language. How could anyone make any sense out of this thing? Each key bled into the other with barley any space between them to tell each note apart. One miscalculation of the thumb and an entire composition was ruined._

_“Hey.”_

_Ryan snapped himself out of his daze and looked at Shane._

_“Stop stressing yourself out. You just need to relax.”_

_Two warm hands wrapped around his wrists and lifted his arms from his sides. Ryan’s breath caught in his throat at the sudden touch. He had no idea what Shane wanted him to do but whatever it was, he wasn’t going to fight it._

_“Spread your fingers apart like this.”_

_Shane finagled his fingers into position, thumb occasionally brushing Ryan’s knuckles as he did so. Every nerve end in his hands seemed to spark to life at the contact._

_“Now, keeping this pace, I want you to strike the keys,” Shane said softly, fingers curling around Ryan’s wrist once again to guide him._

_Ignoring his suddenly very loud, very rapid heartbeat, Ryan did exactly as instructed. He played the same notes over and over again without question. They didn’t sound like much on their own but when Shane took his hands away and began tickling the keys on the other end of the piano, a beautiful tune was born. Ryan beamed._

_“Holy shit,” he muttered, “I’m actually doing it.”_

_“You have a good teacher.”_

_The smirk that Shane flashed him was powerful enough to pierce through Ryan’s sternum and shock his heart. How he managed to keep hitting the notes when he could hardly even breathe, he’d never be able to figure out._

_Shane struck the final chord of the song and reached over to grab Ryan’s hands, pulling them away from the keys._

_“You got one of your wishes,” he said, fingers lingering on Ryan’s skin as he spoke, “Would you like me to grant the other?”_

_Ryan nodded._

_“Alright. What should I play for you?”_

_“You want me to choose a song?”_

_“Well, yeah,” Shane chuckled, “If I’m going to play something specifically for you, I want it to be something you actually want to listen to.”_

_“Jesus Christ. I don’t know! Something beautiful and romantic I guess?”_

_Shane’s brow cocked, sending Ryan’s brain into an instinctive frenzy._

_“Okay, maybe not romantic ‘cause that would be weird. We’re not— I mean you don’t have to—“_

_A warm hand settled on Ryan’s knee._

_“Take it easy, man. You’re gonna give yourself an ulcer if you keep flippin’ out like that.”_

_Ryan’s eyes fluttered. His brain felt like it was short circuiting. Between Shane’s oozing charisma and the hand on his knee, he was starting to feel as though he had lost complete control of himself. There were sensations coming to fruition that he had never experienced around his best friend before and inklings of temptation that could only be attributed to a hopeless sense of romanticism._

_Shane scooted closer, their hips and knees flush against each other. Part of Ryan wanted to lean away and give the musician some much needed arm room. But the other part —the part that was having these new thoughts and temptations— wanted nothing more than to feel Shane at his side._

_“You’re a Disney nerd so I’m sure you’ll dig this one.”_

_The hand on Ryan’s knee slipped away as Shane began working at the keys once again. It took a moment for the languid melody to register in his mind and just before he could put his finger on the title of the song, Shane’s voice began crooning the lyrics._

_“So this is love, hmmm mmm mmm,” Shane hummed, “So this is love...”_

_Ryan’s heart nearly stopped altogether when the big guy started singing. Just like it had been in the bar, Shane’s voice was tastefully raspy, giving the song an inexplicable texture that was otherwise missing in the 1950 rendition. The sound brought goosebumps to Ryan’s arms and when Shane drew his attention from the keys to wink at him, he thought for certain he was going to erupt like some sort of fleshy volcano._

_As he sang the final “so this is love” and drew out the remainder of the song in a graceful melody, Shane leaned against Ryan and pressed their temples together. For a moment, Ryan hesitated to move. This was a joke right? The big guy was just messing around and exaggerating the whole “romantic piano player” bit. Surely there was no need for him to go along with it and make things worse for himself._

_But after deliberate contemplation, he let that stupid, romantic part of himself take control and leaned back against Shane’s side. Pressed up against each other, they could feel every move the other person made. Shane’s hands moved slowly across the keys, his shoulder rolling against Ryan’s as he played. Ryan closed his eyes and allowed himself to drown in the tune. His head started to nod and shift in rhythm with the melody, causing Shane’s to bob along with it._

_“Are you all aglow, Ryan,” Shane murmured in his ear._

_“Maybe.”_

_“Yeah?”_

_Shane pulled one hand from the piano and slid it underneath Ryan’s, intertwining their fingers. A heat rose to Ryan’s cheeks but he refused to pry himself away. He was in a love struck trance and he’d be damned if he let his own anxieties ruin it._

_“What about now?”_

_“Hard to tell,” Ryan hummed._

_The playfulness that had arisen was exactly what Shane lived for. With the softest chuckle, he reached up to grasp Ryan’s chin with his other hand, guiding his attention so that they were looking directly at each other. Ryan’s breath caught in his throat as Shane’s eyes darted to his lips._

_“What about now?_ ”

_They were so close, Ryan could feel Shane’s breath on his lips. The heartbeat in his ears had grown so loud and so fast that he could barely hear his own thoughts. He wanted to capture the moment like a photograph, to keep it tucked away inside his brain forever like a precious keepsake. But he also desperately want to take the next step and close the gap. He wanted Shane to kiss him more than anything in the fucking world and God did it make him weak._

_“I’m feeling something,” he whispered._

_Shane’s lashes hung low over his eyes as he stared at Ryan. He was in complete control of the situation and yet he seemed so hungry, as if even he was irritated by his self-control_

_“I think I know a way to make you feel even better.”_

_Shane’s eyes fluttered closed as he leaned in to eliminate the space between their mouths. Ryan inhaled sharply and pushed forward against Shane’s grasp to receive his long-awaited kiss..._

Ryan’s forcibly drew himself from his fantasy, eyes snapping open just before Shane’s lips made contact with his. Every nerve ending in his body was on fire and his chest was heaving. What the hell was he doing? Having romantic daydreams about his best friend in the shower like some lovesick high school dweeb? That was just... _wrong_.

He leaned against the wall of his shower and stared at his toes as he waited for his breathing to settle.

_Shit_ , he thought to himself with a heavy sigh, _This is even worse than I thought_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Curious as to what "So This is Love" sounds like on piano? Check this rendition out: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y_Z8PH6XEIU


	4. Chapter 4

“What the hell are you eating?”

Ryan looked up from his flimsy burrito during his lunch break that following Monday to see Steven gazing down at him with a mixture of disgust and worry.

“Del Taco,” he replied through a mouthful of soggy beans and questionably chewy cheese.

“ _Del Taco_?”

Steven placed the mug in his hand down on the table and plopped into the chair opposite from Ryan’s. The judgmental look that the blond-haired food connoisseur gave him was cold enough to freeze Ryan’s entire skeleton.

“What’s wrong with you?”

The question wasn’t at all accusatory. In fact, despite the sting of his straightforwardness, it was clear Steven was genuinely concerned.

“What makes you think there’s something wrong with me?” Ryan asked as he swallowed the remainder of his frankly ginormous bite, “Can’t a guy enjoy some shitty Mexican food every once in a while?”

“Taco Bell is shitty Mexican food. Del Taco is straight up _poison_.”

Ryan frowned.

“Yeah, well, we can’t all be chowing down on authentic Japanese cuisine whenever we want, can we?”

“No, but we can at least _try_ not to murder our stomachs when we’re feeling depressed at work,” Steven said pointedly.

“I’m not depressed!”

“Ryan, you’re wearing excessively ripped dad jeans with an oversized swearshirt while eating a basic ass bean and cheese burrito from Del Taco. If that doesn’t scream ‘crisis’, then I don’t know what does.”

Ryan attempted to intimidate Steven into backing down from the accusation by glaring at him in silence, but the ever doughty New Yorker refused to break eye contact. Ryan sighed in defeat and leaned back in his chair.

“Alright, fine. So maybe I’m feeling a bit...Weird.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because I’ve been thinking about some stuff—“

“Always a dangerous thing for you.”

Ryan narrowed his eyes.

“Sorry,” Steven said with a raise of the hand, “Go on.”

“I kind of had an epiphany over the weekend that’s maybe not so good. And now I’m realizing that I may have been lying to myself about something for a really long time. Not that I’ve never lied to myself about shit before. But this...This is something serious.”

“Are you dying?”

“What? God no! Physically, I’m fine.”

“Oh,” Steven murmured before pursing his lips.

“ _Oh_? Jesus Christ. Why do you sound disappointed?”

“I’m not. I just figured that if it isn’t as serious as you being terminally ill, then you’re probably overthinking shit again.”

Ryan was downright offended.

“Just because I overthink shit a lot, doesn’t mean the emotions that get shoved down my throat are wrong,” he said sharply, unable to stifle the frustration in his tone, “If you want to be my friend and listen to me vent about my fucking baggage, then fine. But if you’re going to mock me for it, then take a hike.”

Steven blinked in surprise. It was very rare that Ryan Bergara ever snapped at someone, especially when it came to his close friends and family.

“I’m sorry, Ryan,” Steven said quietly, “I didn’t mean to—“

Ryan waved his hand dismissively.

“I know. It’s fine,” he replied as he buried his face in his hands, “I’m just a huge mess right now.”

A gentle hand fell upon his arm, drawing him from his bout of self-pity. He lowered his hands and looked down to see Steven touching his forearm in support.

“Look, I don’t know what it is you’re going through right now, but I am here for you if you want to tell me. Okay?”

Ryan nodded, a soft smile of appreciation tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Thanks, Steven,” he replied, “I’m sure I will want to spill the beans about this to someone. But right now I think I just need some time to even wrap my head around what the hell’s going on with—“

“Well look who it is!”

Ryan looked over at the doorway to see Shane bounding in with the excitement of a puppy seeing its owner return from a shopping trip.

“Big Apple Steve and good ol’ Ryan Steven—“

He stopped mid-sentence the second he spotted Ryan’s disheveled appearance and Steven’s comforting hand upon his arm. Ryan’s heart skipped a beat.

“Am I interrupting something?”

Shaking his head, Ryan pulled away from Steven’s touch and put on a wide, almost painful grin.

“Oh, no. We’re all good. Just talking about this weekend’s Lakers game,” he said quickly.

Shane gave Steven an incredulous look.

“Kobe got in a fight,” Steven added without missing a beat, “Some big white guy pushed him and nearly fractured his ankle.”

“Oh. Didn’t know you were into basketball.”

Steven shrugged and took a sip from his mug before countering, “Somebody’s gotta sacrifice themselves and talk hoops with Ryan.”

“Hey!”

“What? I’m just saying watching a bunch of Shane-sized men run back and forth on a wood floor bouncing a disgusting, sweat-soaked leather ball isn’t exactly an art form I take great pride in watching.”

Ryan couldn’t help but blush at Steven’s decision to compare the stereotypically tall basketball players to Shane.

“Clearly I’ve stuck my nose in something I have neither any business nor interest in,” Shane mused as he crossed over to the fridge, “I’ll take my sad little sandwich to go and leave you fellas to it.”

“You sure you don’t want to stick around and listen to Ryan fawn over Kobe and LeBron? It’s honestly kind of cute,” Steven added.

Ryan blinked.

“ _Excuse me_?”

“Oh come on, Ryan,” Shane butted in once he had his lunch in hand, “There’s nothing wrong with having a little man crush.”

“I don’t have a man crush! They’re my heroes. Just ‘cause you guys don’t understand the importance of having a sport idol to look up to—“

“Whoa, whoa,” Shane exclaimed with an amused grin, “Easy there, bud. Don’t give yourself an ulcer defending your b-ball boys.”

A flash of Ryan’s Saturday morning fantasy flashed before him like a recurring post-traumatic memory. He remembered the vivid picture of Shane’s hand falling upon his knee and the sensation of his entire body catching fire at the touch.

_Take it easy, man. You’re gonna give yourself an ulcer if you keep flippin’ out like that._

A cold sweat washed over Ryan’s body. He needed to step outside and catch his breath before he did something stupid.

“I, uh, would love to stay and talk shit with you guys but I gotta run,” he stammered as he crumpled his half-eaten burrito up in its wrapper.

Steven watched him with a concerned furrow of the brow.

“Where’re you going?”

“I’m just gonna slip outside for a little bit. Y’know, catch some fresh air and stuff.”

To Ryan’s surprise it wasn’t Steven who spoke up but rather Shane who inquired, “Want me to come hang out with you? I’ll get you a soda or something.”

“No,” Ryan said a little too quickly, “Thanks for the offer. I just— I need to be alone for a second.”

“Oh. Sure.”

Shane nodded in acceptance, but there was no denying that he looked disappointed in Ryan’s abrupt answer.

“If you change your mind, I’ll be at my desk,” Shane said quietly before disappearing from the break room.

Guilt fell on Ryan’s shoulders like a massive weighted blanket. He stared at the doorway for a moment, then pinched his nose in frustration. What the hell was he thinking? Falling for Shane was one thing. But pushing him away because he didn’t know how to cope with his own emotions was a problem in its own right.

The loud scrape of metal chair legs on laminate floor drew his attention back to Steven.

“Go outside and get some air,” Steven murmured with an aura of suspicion, “But do not think for one second that we’re done talking about this.”

Ryan swallowed.

“I don’t know what all that was about, but it was weird as hell. Tonight, Andrew and I are grabbing dinner downtown. As soon as we’re done, I’m calling you. Okay?”

“Okay,” Ryan sighed.

He watched as Steven grabbed his mug and headed back out to the office. Standing alone in the break room with nothing but his trashed lunch and his stupid brain, he finally realized just how much he was hurting himself. Steven was right. If he had any hope of figuring out what the hell was going on inside him, he needed to tell somebody about his newfound feelings.

* * *

Ryan was no more than halfway through a much needed rewatch of _The Conjuring_ when Steven called later that night.

“Hey, man,” he said casually upon answering the phone, “How was dinner?”

“Overpriced. But good. So, what’s your deal?”

“Wow. Straight to the point, huh?”

“After witnessing the absolute train wreck of a conversation in the break room today, it’s pretty obvious we’ve got a Code Red on our hands. I’m not gonna put this off by blabbering on about my food. So tell me what’s going on.”

Ryan sighed and craned his neck over the back of the couch.

“Look, I don’t even know where to start, okay? This whole situation is weird as shit and honestly kinda pathetic.”

“So pathetic you can’t even look your best friend in the eyes?”

“What?”

“Dude. Ryan. You almost shat your pants the second Shane walked through the door at lunch. What funky emotional crisis could possibly have you so confused and ashamed that you can’t even talk to Shane about it?”

“It’s not that I don’t want to talk to him about stuff. I just don’t know how to— There’s no way I could possibly tell him about my current problem.”

“Why not?”

“Because he _is_ the current problem,” Ryan exclaimed before he could stop himself.

His breath caught in his throat. A silence fell on the other end of the line which only made the feeling of dread in his gut worse.

Finally, after a long pause, Steven breathed out, “ _Ooohhhhh_.”

“Oh?”

“I can’t believe it’s taken us this freakin’ long to be having this conversation.”

Steven let out an amused chuckle. Ryan furrowed his brow in confusion.

“What the fuck are you talking about? I haven’t even told you what the problem is!”

“Trust me. You don’t even need to say it out loud. Your depression outfit, plus your inability to face Shane, plus the absolute calamity that is your emotional state right now makes it pretty obvious what’s going on here.”

“Oh really? And what’s that, Professor Wise Ass?”

“You’re in love with Shane.”

Ryan felt as though he’d been pierced in the heart by a dagger. Steven had leaped all the hurdles in a single bound and sliced right through to his core. His jaw instinctively clenched, lips pressing together in a hard line. Even without Steven there in person to see him, he was trying to conceal his feelings. But no matter how hard he tried to swallow the truth, it was inevitably going to crawl its way back out.

“N-no,” he stammered, “I’m not...’in love’ with him. I just think I might be...feeling some things about him.”

Steven sighed.

“Okay. Maybe you’re not completely head over heels yet. But whatever these ‘weird emotions’ are that you’ve been feeling clearly have to do with him and the possibility of seeing him as more than just your friend. Am I wrong?”

“No...”

“Awesome. Figured that out pretty quick.”

“This isn’t a riddle, Steven! Can’t you see I’m fucking screwed? Shane is my co-worker and, more importantly, my best friend,” Ryan said as he scraped his nails across his scalp before grabbing a fistful of hair, “I’m not supposed to feel these kinds of things about him!”

“Is it ‘cause he’s a man?”

“What? No! Why would it be that?”

“I don’t know. A lot of people are restricted by their internalized homophobia. It’s just the way society has bred people.”

Ryan let out a huff of perplexed laughter.

“I’m not struggling with internalized homophobia. At least I don’t think I am... It’s 2018. I’m pretty sure most of us are past that stage.”

“Fair enough. So what is it about Shane that has made you feel this way?”

“Are really asking me why I’m attracted to him?”

“Actually I’m trying to pinpoint the inciting incident that spurred these feelings of yours but if you wanna start gushing about him, be my guest. I’m going to be totally honest with you though, I will only be half paying attention.”

“Wow. You’re a real pal,” Ryan said with a roll of the eyes.

“Come on, Ryan. Seriously. Why now? You’ve known Shane for years. How come this crisis hit you all of a sudden?”

It dawned on Ryan that the truth behind his revelation was rather ugly. Not only had he uncovered a secret he wasn’t supposed to know, but he’d also actively snooped through Shane’s personal space to find it. All because he was too clingy to let the big guy have a Friday night to himself.

“I don’t know,” he lied, “It kind of just hit me. I went out to a bar on Friday and had a couple beers and I guess I kinda got to thinking about stuff.”

“Oh my God.”

“What?”

“Did you make out with a stranger?”

Ryan nearly choked.

“Jesus Christ, no! What is wrong with you? Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know. I know a couple of people who made out with strangers at the bar in the midst of an emotional crisis and had their feelings slap them in the face. Just thought maybe you had a gay awakening.”

“For the love of God, Steven, can you please never refer to my crush on Shane as a ‘gay awakening’?”

“You’re right. That’s insensitive. Sorry.”

Ryan sighed and let himself relax a little more in his seat. Nothing about this was easy. Steven had been a good friend of his for a long time but their natural competitiveness made it all too effortless to want to roast each other. Having serious conversations about romantic entanglements and personal struggles wasn’t something they were used to having without a few good jabs.

“Look, I don’t want to go into a lot of the details since I honestly haven’t even thought about them myself,” he explained, “But the truth is I’m starting to see him in a way I never thought I would. He’s always made me feel cared for and appreciated and important. I guess I’m just now realizing that he’s the only one who really makes me feel that way.”

“Gee thanks, Ryan.”

“You know what I mean, you jerk.”

“I know,” Steven laughed, “Just wanted to give you a hard time. You do realize that you’re going to have to play it cool if you want him not to be suspicious right? ‘Cause today’s little episode in the break room was absolutely atrocious to watch. If I see you run away from him when we’re at work, I am never inviting you over to my place for dinner ever again.”

Ryan replayed the conversation between the three of them in his head and cringed.

“Was it really that bad?”

“Any worse and Shane would have run out crying. And you and I both know that man never cries.”

“Shit,” Ryan hissed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I’m so fucking stupid.”

“A little bit. But that doesn’t mean you can’t clean up your mess. Bring him some lunch tomorrow and tell him you’re sorry for flipping out at him. I’m sure he’ll forgive you in a heartbeat.”

“But what if he asks why I was upset? I can’t just tell him I’ve suddenly got the hots for him.”

“Come up with another excuse then. Say that your auntie passed away or something.”

“I’m not going to lie and tell him one of my family members died! That’s fucked up.”

He could practically hear Steven’s eyes roll through the phone.

“I don’t care what lame ass excuse you come up with. Just kiss and make up, alright?”

Ryan’s cheeks flushed a soft shade of pink. He knew Steven was speaking figuratively of course, but boy did a part of him jump for joy at the thought of planting an apologetic kiss on the big guy’s lips.

“Fine. I’ll talk to him tomorrow.”

“Good. The last thing I want is to have to shovel up the shattered remains of your heart because you couldn’t figure out how to stay friends with the guy you like.”

“I’m a grown man, not a hormonal high schooler, y’know?”

“Keep telling yourself that.”

“Alright, hang the fuck up so I can finish watching my movie in peace.”

“It’s about time you freed me from my prison. Go enjoy _La La Land_ for the sixteenth time in a row.”

“It’s not _La La Land_ , asshole. Its _The Conjur_ —“

Steven hung up before he could even finish his sentence.

He scoffed and looked at his phone, unable to keep himself from making an indignant face. Then, once he’d confirmed his counterpart was truly gone, he placed his phone on the arm of the couch and slunk deeper into the cushions. He had to admit a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Talking to Steven about these sudden, unprecedented emotions made him realize he wasn’t completely insane. In fact, just going off of Steven’s reactions, part of the discovery actually made sense.

Shane had been an important, supportive presence in his life for a long time. He made Ryan laugh when no one else could and gave sage advice that sometimes surprised even Shane himself. When the two of them were together, Ryan felt unstoppable. No man, no ghost, no monster could ever hurt him if the big guy was around.

_Are you all aglow, Ryan?_

He stared blankly at the television in front of him, unable to see the frozen frame behind the crystal clear vision of Shane smiling at him.

While most of Steven’s accusations and bold guesses had been wildly accurate, there was one thing he had said that wasn’t entirely true. Ryan Bergara _had_ fallen head over heels for Shane Madej. And boy was the journey to get back on his feet going to be a difficult one.


	5. Chapter 5

The next day, Ryan followed Steven’s advice and brought them both take-out for lunch. Shane was undoubtedly surprised by the gift and, frankly, Ryan couldn’t blame the big guy for having to take a second to wrap his head around the situation. It wasn’t every day that Ryan bought him a meal and delivered it straight to his desk.

“What’s this?” Shane asked as Ryan placed the plastic bag in front of him.

“Chinese food. Don’t worry, I know you’ve got very Caucasian taste buds so I just got you some teriyaki chicken.”

Shane leaned over and took a whiff of the bag.

“Smells delish,” he noted with a cocked brow, “What’s the occasion?”

“It’s an apology gift.”

“For what?”

“For being a fucking weirdo yesterday,” Ryan explained with a crooked half-frown, “I was going through some shit over the weekend and I didn’t leave my stupid baggage at home like the idiot I am.”

The gentle grin that settled on Shane’s lips caused Ryan’s lungs to struggle for the briefest moment.

“Hey, don’t worry about it. We all have those days.”

“I know. It’s just... I shouldn’t have pushed you away like I did. So, there.”

He gestured to the bag of food.

“Apology chicken.”

“Apology chicken accepted,” Shane replied with a soft chuckle. “Shall we dig in?”

“God, yes please. You have no idea how hard it was to keep myself from ripping it open and devouring that shit on the drive back here. My car is going to smell like a wok for days.”

* * *

The rest of the week carried on as usual. He and Shane ate lunch together every day, sharing stupid jokes and talking smack about their mutual friends just like they always did. There were a few awkward moments when Shane asked what had happened earlier in the week to make Ryan so upset but when Ryan told him he wasn’t ready to talk about it, he didn’t push. He accepted the answer and moved on as if he’d never brought it up.

By the time Friday morning rolled around, the anxiety gnawing at the back of Ryan’s mind returned to the forefront. Not once had Shane mentioned his plans for the evening and, being as cautious as ever, Ryan had carefully avoided bringing up his previous venture to the Red Lion. If the big guy was going to be performing again that evening, he wanted to be there to witness it.

“You got any plans tonight?”

Shane looked up from packing his messenger bag at the sound of Ryan’s voice.

“Nothing special,” he replied nonchalantly, “Going out to a bar with some old friends later. That’s about it.”

The sneaky little devil that was riding on Ryan’s shoulder raised his fist in success. His real question —the one he couldn’t possibly ask outright— had been answered. Shane was going back to the pub for his weekly set.

“Sounds fun. I’m probably going to be chilling at home tonight if you get bored and wanna flood my messages with your shitty memes.”

Shane let his mouth fall agape in overdramatic offense.

“Excuse me? I’ll have you know my memes are of a higher class than the rest _and_ are most brilliantly executed. You, sir, have no taste.”

Ryan snorted.

“Uh huh. I’ll remember you said that when I see the exact same memes circling the horny teenager realm of Twitter.”

“If you ever see people sharing the same memes,” Shane replied with a false aura of dominance, “You remember those little bastards stole _my_ art.”

“I’ll be sure to DM their parents and inform them of their child’s disrespectful, criminalistic behavior.”

“Perfect. I wanna see those brats rot in prison for defiling my precious livelihood.”

Once they had finished gathering their things, the two of them bid farewell to their co-workers and headed out to the parking lot.

“Well I, uh...Guess I’ll see you Monday,” Ryan stuttered out awkwardly once they reached Shane’s car.

The big guy adjusted the strap on his bag and leaned up against side of his car like some Fifties greaser at a drive-in. As long and lanky as he was, he somehow always managed to surprise Ryan with how cool he could be.

“Actually, I was hoping we could get together sometime this weekend. Maybe hit up the cinema or something. You know I’m always down to clown with the silver screen.”

“Did you have to put it that way exactly?” Ryan chuckled, “You know most people say ‘let’s catch a movie’? Not that they’re ‘down to clown’ with one.”

“I’m not most people, Ryan.”

“No you’re not. You’re—“

“A gem. I know.”

Ryan couldn’t help but laugh. Even despite all the wild fantasies and sudden romantic desires he had started to feel towards his best friend, things still felt normal when they were around each other. Shane was still Shane, even if a helpless little sliver of Ryan’s soul wanted him to be more than that.

“Alright. The cinema it is,” he agreed, “How about tomorrow night? That new horror film about the Winchester mansion is playing at eight at the theater by my apartment.”

The grin that tugged at the corner of Shane’s mouth bore the perfect mixture of amusement and adoration.

“Oh, Ryan. Another crappy horror flick? Really?”

Ryan narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms in an attempt to put up an intimidating front. After all, no stupid little crush was going to make him back out of a play fight with the big guy.

“I’m calling the shots now. Ya hear me, Legs?”

He poked Shane in the chest with his index finger. Shane’s eyebrows hiked up his forehead in surprise and the grin on his lips only grew wider at the confrontation.

“Whoa! Hey, now! I don’t want any trouble, sir. Whatever you want to do. I’m as flexible as a rubber band.”

“Good. Regal Cinemas. Tomorrow night. Eight o’clock. Got that?”

Shane laughed and stepped back to open the car door.

“It’s a date,” he said as he climbed inside, “I’ll buy the tickets if you get the snacks.”

The competitive bubble of confidence that Ryan had been happily engulfed in immediately popped when his brain finished processing what Shane had said. A _date_? Surely the big guy was joking. That was just a silly thing people said when they went out with their buddies. Right?

“A-alright,” he managed to stammer out in response, “Sounds reasonable. Just, uh... Try not to be late, okay?”

“Have I ever been late before?”

Ryan gave him a look.

“Not including the time I slept through my alarm on the day of our Bobby Mackey pitch. That’ll never happen again.”

He waved his hand dismissively and gave Ryan one of those playfully coquettish grins that made his heart flutter.

“Besides,” he added, “I’m a gentleman. And a gentleman never disappoints.”

“You’re a psychopath is what you are. Now get out of here before I change my mind.”

Shane bid him farewell and drove off with a goofy wave through his windshield, leaving Ryan alone to process what had just unfolded. He felt as though he’d gone into shock. Most of the conversation had been dominated by their usual bantering, but there was no denying that something about the exchange had felt different.

Maybe it was just his mind playing tricks on him and letting him foolishly get his hopes up, but he was convinced Shane had been more flirtatious than normal. Aside from the outright teasing about the two of them going on a “date”, Shane’s body language and facial expressions had been alarmingly coy. Not that the big guy had never played up the flirty attitude as part of joke before, of course. This just felt a little less...tongue-in-cheek.

 _Cut the shit, Bergara_ , he cautioned himself as he climbed in his car to head home, _Don’t let your stupid little fantasies ruin your friendship._

* * *

He sauntered through the front door of the Red Lion just after 7:15 that evening. Just like his last visit, every booth and table in the lounge area was packed with visitors waiting to see Shane’s performance. There were a few familiar faces in the room, including the conciliatory bartender who had given Ryan quite a few scares during his previous visit.

“Well look who it is,” the bartender beamed when Ryan rolled up to his countertop, “Wasn’t sure I’d ever see you back here after I spilled beer on your shoes.”

“Hey, I spilled on myself. Like I said last week, you’re not responsible for my scaredy ass.”

The bartender laughed, stepping away to serve another customer and give Ryan just enough time to settle in.

“What can I get you tonight? Another pilsner?”

Ryan couldn’t help but make a face just thinking about the taste of beer. Last week’s drunken escapade hadn’t come close to the parties and solo celebrations he’d thrown in college, but the aftermath of the episode had been bitter enough to leave a stain on his memory.

“I think I’ll take a gin fizz actually.”

“One fizz comin’ up.”

With a good forty minutes until Shane’s set, Ryan had plenty of time to throw back a drink or two and chat with some of the folks at the bar. He ended up in a heated discussion about the upcoming Lakers-Cavs game with the gentleman beside him and spent nearly twenty minutes just listing every stat-based reason the Lakers were the superior team.

Five minutes before eight o’clock, the majority of the performers took to the stage on the other side of the room to ready their instruments. Vocalists adjusted their mic stands, guitarists plucked at their strings, and, within moments, a very familiar lanky figure hopped up the steps to join them at his piano.

The audience cheered upon seeing Shane take his spot on stage. Dressed in a navy blue suit and tie, the big guy looked just as classy as the last performance. Ryan was no fashion expert, but boy could Shane really clean up when he wanted to.

“Guten Abend,” Shane exclaimed, “Thank you for joining me here tonight. I’m sure some of you may be wondering who this tall, skinny, miscreant is up on stage. And no, I’m not talking about you, Kyle.”

One of the guitarists to Shane’s left made a face and waved him off. Shane laughed and turned back to the crowd.

“Anyways, I’m Shane,” he continued, adjusting his microphone as he spoke, “I’m what you lovely folk would call a ‘pianist’. However, I much prefer the term, ‘ivory seducer’.”

The guitarist said something Ryan couldn’t hear from the back of the room.

“Yes I can say that, Kyle. Hush up and stand there looking pretty, would ya? What do you think we’re paying you for?”

Shane’s introductions and opening jokes ran on for a few minutes before he opened up the floor to requests. There were a few obscure songs being thrown out that even Shane didn’t know, but the second he heard somebody shout “Rocket Man”, a massive grin of excitement was pulling at his lips.

“I don’t know who just suggested that, but you are _exactly_ the kind of person I want spinnin’ beats at my funeral.”

With a final roll of the shoulders, Shane went to work. His fingers frolicked gracefully across the keys for only a few notes before he started singing. His beautifully deep and rugged voice immediately began reverberating off of every wall in the space, making Ryan’s skin crawl with restrained desire and, by the time he had reached the second chorus, everyone in the pub was singing along with him. That feeling of unity and a greater, selfless purpose that had pulled Ryan out of his shell last time was back.

That night, the setlist was full of hits. Some Ryan remembered hearing during Shane’s last performance. Others were a fresh take on songs that brought him back to a simpler time.

Unlike his first venture to the pub, Ryan felt relaxed and free of anxiety. He was comfortable sitting in the back of the room watching Shane work his magic at the piano. He knew he was just a face in the crowd and that no matter how much the big guy’s eyes wandered the sea of people, he would never find him. The stage lights were all but blinding. Besides, with how much passion he put into his performance, he wasn’t going to bother to zero in on some random guy sitting alone at the bar. Ryan was safe.

It was nearly 10:30 and Ryan was in the midst of ordering another drink when a very familiar melody trickled across the room. For a moment, he had to think about where he’d heard the song before but Shane’s voice crooned the lyrics that ended up cutting his guessing game short.

“So this is love, hmmm mmm mmmm... So this is _love_.”

Ryan froze in place, fingers only half-curled around the glass the bartender had placed in front of him. The line between fantasy and reality was blurred as flashes of Shane sitting beside him with their hands intertwined appeared in his head. It took him several sharp, almost uncomfortable breaths for his mind to catch up with the world around him. He wasn’t dreaming. Not if the low chatter of background conversations and clinking glasses had anything to say about it. Whatever was happening was unfolding in real time and he had his goddamn back to it.

He turned around slowly to face the stage, leaving his drink untouched. Sure enough, Shane was leaning over the piano and singing into the microphone with a yearning that would tug at any person’s heart strings.

“I’m all aglow...and now I know...the key to our heaven is mine...”

_Are you all aglow, Ryan?_

Ryan’s breath caught in his throat as he watched Shane serenade the mic in front of him. Those long, skilled fingers of his stroked each key with precision. Every note encouraged Ryan’s weak and tainted little mind to wonder what it would feel like to have those fingers caress his skin or curl around his waist. Would he be sweet and gentle just like he was in his fantasy? Or would those hands leave marks in their wake?

“So this is the miracle that I’ve been dreaming of... Hmm mmm mmm...”

_Hmm mmm mmm..._

Ryan closed his eyes and tried to shake off the dream-like image of Shane sitting at his side and singing softly in his ear. But no matter how hard he strained to force the thought away, all he could see was those soft eyes and that crooked smile that he’d grown to love more than life itself. No sound existed in the universe but the soothing croon of Shane’s voice — deep and sensual and all for him...

_So this..._

“...is love...”

A bellowing cheer erupted from the audience, snapping Ryan back to reality. His chest was heaving and he was beginning to feel lightheaded. Reaching out to take a sip of his drink, he quickly discovered that his hands were shaking.

 _Oh no_ , he thought to himself, _Come on, Bergara. Get it together before someone starts to think you’re some kind of psycho_.

He slammed his eyes shut and braced himself against the bar, nails digging into the polished wood. His attention was focused on the smallest sounds: the scrape of chair legs against wooden floorboards, the clang of glasses hitting one another, and the crinkling of paper tray liners being discarded by bussers. Every sound that he could hear beyond Shane’s voice was funneled into his ear in an attempt to refocus and calm his nerves.

“You alright?”

Ryan opened his eyes and found the bartender gazing at him in concern.

“Oh. Yeah. I’m good,” Ryan said quickly, his grip on the bar top loosening, “I’ve just, uh...I’ve been dealing with a lot of anxiety lately. Guess it decided to bite me in the ass for a sec.”

“Well, let me get you a water to wash down the fizz. Hydration will do you some good I think,” the bartender replied before pouring him a glass of ice water.

“You’re probably right. Thanks.”

* * *

Ryan returned to his apartment completely sober. As much as he’d wanted to down a handful of shots and dance with strangers to ease his mind, he couldn’t bring himself to make the same mistake as last time. The hangover he’d battled the next morning had been a nightmare and the vivid fantasy of Shane serenading him had come from the alcohol-fueled emotions. He was no intellectual, but he sure as hell learned from his mistakes.

With a resigned sigh, he slipped on his pajamas and climbed into bed just after midnight. Before he could silence his phone for the night, his screen illuminated with a text from Shane.

**Today 12:17am**

_We still on for tomorrow night?_

Ryan squinted as he read the message. Did Shane really think he was going to change his mind within half a day?

Uh, yeah? Why? You regret asking me out already?

_Hell no. We Madejs are a proud folk. We stick to our guns every time._

Good. I didn’t peg you for a coward.

_I’m sorry, who’s the one that screams like a little girl when the insignificant radio waves make his silly ghost box talk?_

Don’t you dare bad mouth the spirit box. >:(

_Until that thing straight up says, “Hi, Shane, it’s me, the ghost”, I ain’t buying into the bullshit._

Alright. I change my mind. I’m not going tomorrow.

_Noooooooo D:_

You’ve dug your grave. Now hop in it, asshole.

_Baby, come back! I can change!_

Fine. I’ll still go to the movies with you. But you better not embarrass me by laughing in the middle of the fucking movie like last time.

_But, Ryan, the way the demon hopped across the floor...IT LOOKED LIKE FROGGER. HOW AM I NOT SUPPOSED TO LAUGH AT THAT??_

Alright, it was kinda funny...

_See???_

But I’m serious. Try not to crack up again. The last thing I want is to have a group of bratty ass teens look back at us like we’re their obnoxious grandparents.

_They’re just jealous cause we’re cool._

Ryan couldn’t help but laugh out loud at Shane’s comment. The last thing he ever thought about the two of them when they were together was that they were “cool”. They were complete dorks who told stupid jokes and came up with weird bits even when they weren’t in front of a camera. No teenager could possibly envy them.

**Today 12:28am**

You wish you were cool.

_Nah. Who needs to be cool when you can be me? ;)_

Gross. Please never send me a winky face. Especially when you’re bragging about yourself.

_Why? Are you jealous of me too??_

God no! What could you possibly have that would make me want to be anything like you???

_For starters, I’m not short..._

How. Dare. You.

_I said what I said. And I ain’t wrong!_

You hear that sound? It’s the sound of me demolishing this friendship with a bulldozer.

_Sorry, I can’t hear anything over the sound of all my adoring fans worshipping me for being so cool and tall!_

I hate you.

_I know you do. ;)_

I’m going to bed before I have to read anymore messages with that stupid winky face.

_Aww. But that wink of his is so classy!_

Goodnight, Shane.

_Party pooper...Ahem. I mean... GOODNIGHT, RYAN ;) ;) ;)_

Ryan rolled his eyes and placed his phone back on his bedside table. A part of him longed to stay up all night messaging Shane and asking the big guy about his night. He’d been at the bar, seen the performance himself. But what was Shane feeling? Successful? Adored? Maybe even a little exhausted?

The part of Ryan that needed to sleep, however, won the internal debate in a landslide victory. Rolling over, he found himself completely at ease despite the anxiety that was brewing over his Saturday night plans. He would sleep well that night. And, if he was lucky, he’d get to see Shane beaming down at him in his dreams just like he always did when they were together.


	6. Chapter 6

When Ryan arrived at the movie theater the next evening, he was surprised to find Shane already waiting for him in the courtyard just outside the lobby looking surprisingly put together. His hair wasn’t sticking out in all directions like it usually did when acting on its own free will and he was wearing a slick utility jacket instead of a typical red flannel over shirt. Hell, if Ryan didn’t know any better, he’d have said that Shane looked like he was dressed for a date.

_Save yourself the heartache and don’t even think about that, Bergara._

“You’re early,” he teased as he joined Shane in front of the lobby doors, “You get bored sitting at home by yourself and come by to people watch?”

“It was either that or watch re-runs of _Seinfeld_. I think it’s safe to say I made the right choice.”

“Y’know, for once in my life, I might have to agree with you there.”

“Do my ears deceive me or did I just hear you say you actually agree with me?”

Ryan rolled his eyes and yanked his ticket out of Shane’s hand.

“Alright, don’t make me swing over to get this refunded. Believe me when I tell you that I will walk away with your eleven-fifty and buy myself a twelve pack at the liquor store.”

Shane made a scandalized expression, mouth agape and hand pressed to his chest.

“You wouldn’t,” the big guy whispered, “Ryan, after all we’ve been through?”

“Shane, after all we’ve been through, it’s a miracle you and I still spend time together.”

“You _have_ threatened to murder me on several occasions,” Shane remarked as they strolled into the lobby to hand over their admission, “Which, I have to say, is sometimes very concerning. You don’t actually want to wipe my beautiful face from the face of the Earth, do you?”

Ryan thanked the greeter who pointed them in the direction of their theater before addressing the question.

“What? No! It’s a bit, alright? I’d never even consider hurting you, let alone try to kill you.”

“Well thank goodness,” Shane breathed out dramatically as he wiped invisible sweat from his brow, “I was beginning to wonder if I was ever gonna end up on Unsolved as the victim rather than the co-host.”

Ryan couldn’t help but roll his eyes.

“You’re ridiculous. Y’know that?”

“I know. I’m pretty sure that’s one of the reasons you keep me around though.”

Ryan shook his head and gave Shane a challenging yet amused look. The big guy was right though. His ridiculous commentary and unorthodox outlook on life kept things fresh and entertaining. There’s was never a dull moment when Shane Madej was around. Everyone knew that.

Once they reached the front of the line at the concession stand, Ryan ordered their food: a large popcorn to share, two large drinks, and two hot dogs, both of which were for Shane. The total price was hefty, no doubt at least ten bucks more than what his companion had paid for the tickets. He wasn’t going to complain, of course. He was just happy to be spending time with the guy.

To his surprise, when he reached into his wallet to pull out his credit card, Shane waved him off and handed the cashier his own card. Ryan was floored.

“What are you doing? I thought I was paying for the food!”

“Relax,” Shane said smoothly as he tucked his card back into his pocket, “I’ve got the night covered.”

“But—“

“No ‘but’s. It’s my treat, alright?”

Ryan wanted to argue. Honestly, he did. What was Shane thinking spending at least a solid sixty dollars on him in one night? It’s not like he wasn’t willing to pay his fair share.

“You’re pouting,” Shane noted as they waited for the concessions team to grab their snacks.

“I’m not pouting.”

Shane laughed.

“Look, if you’re that butt-hurt about it, you can buy the next time we go out.”

_The next time? Was there really going to be a next time like this?_

Ryan felt his heart twirl inside his chest. Excitement rushed through his veins and sparked his nervous system to life. Goosebumps nearly crawled up his arms just thinking about going to the movies with Shane again.

“Fair enough,” he managed to reply without sounding as thrilled as he truly was, “But easy on the hot dogs, next time. I don’t want you having a heart attack mid-film 'cause those meat logs clogged your arteries.”

“On my honor, Doctor Bergara. No more theater weiners.”

Once they had their food, they wandered down the hall and into theater twelve. Sure enough, there wasn’t a single person waiting in the audience when they arrived — a sight that amused Shane more than any cinematic masterpiece ever could.

“Who would have guessed we’d have an entire theater to ourselves,” Shane joked as they took their seats, “What do you think scared everyone off? Me or the twenty-eight percent Metacritic score?”

Ryan slapped Shane’s chest with the back of his hand and scowled at his companion. The physical contact seemed to have the opposite effect from what he intended because instead of shutting up and eating his food, Shane grinned and started instigating him even more.

“Oh come on, Ryan. You don’t actually think people are flocking to the theaters to watch this movie do you? It’s about a little old lady building a fun house for ghosts and I’m pretty sure most sane people, like myself, know that ghosts aren’t even re—“

Ryan reached over and shoved a handful of popcorn into Shane’s mouth before he could finish the thought. Shane’s eyes went wide.

“I’m just gonna do us both a favor and force feed you every time you run your mouth in here,” Ryan said lowly, “So why don’t you save me the trouble and watch the goddamn movie without taking a dump on it every five minutes.”

Even with a mouthful of vengeance popcorn, Shane managed to laugh at Ryan’s aggression. How the guy could find amusement in having someone shove kernels down his throat in an effort to keep him quiet, Ryan would never understand.

By the time the trailers had finished and the actual movie began, only half a dozen other people had ventured into the theater: four teenagers with nothing better to do than guzzle Icees and an elderly couple who more than likely thought they were sitting down to enjoy a documentary about the history of the Winchester rifle.

“How far do you think they’ll get before she runs outta here demanding a refund for forcing her to ‘watch the Devil’s propaganda’?”

Ryan couldn’t help but wheeze, even as he gave Shane a gentle shove.

“You’re the fucking worst,” he whispered sharply, “Besides, I’m probably gonna be just as terrified as her! What’s my excuse?”

“Sorry, pal, you don’t have one. But I’ll tell you what: if you get scared, I’ll let you hold my hand for free,” Shane teased softly, “No surcharge.”

Something deep in Ryan’s gut threatened to catch fire at the thought of holding Shane’s hand. God did he want to. Just thinking about having Shane’s fingers wrapped around his wrist, slowly sliding up to interlock with his own digits was enough to make Ryan’s lungs falter.

“Seems like a hefty discount.”

“Only for my most loyal customers.”

_Damn it, Shane. Why do you have to make this harder than it already is?_

For most of the film, Ryan was calm. Given his track record with horror, however, it was not surprising that the occasional jump scare scattered throughout the movie broke his composure. Anytime a door violently slammed shut or a ghastly spirit appeared in the darkness, he found himself jerking back in his seat and cussing under his breath. Shane, of course, laughed every single time.

“My warm, soothing hand is still here if you need it,” Shane whispered to him somewhere near the halfway point of the film.

Ryan blushed.

“Shut up. I’m not _that_ scared.”

“No need to put on that macho facade for me, Bergara. I know you’re trying your hardest not to shit yourself.”

To Ryan’s surprise, rather than tucking his hand back into his own lap, Shane stretched his arm out and hooked it around Ryan’s shoulders. A chill shot down Ryan’s spine that screamed for every nerve ending in his body to rise from their golden slumbers. Goosebumps crawled along his skin and his jaw went slack.

_What the hell is going on? Is Shane...making a move? No. That can’t be it. He would never._

“I’m sorry, who was the one who texted me earlier today saying he was excited to have Chipotle for dinner? If anyone’s two clenched cheeks away from soiling themselves, it’s you.”

“Don’t worry,” Shane replied with a smirk, “The beans are sittin’ well tonight.”

Ryan laughed a little too loud at the remark and found the older lady looking back at him with narrowed eyes. He immediately lowered his head.

“Jesus Christ. She’s still here?”

“Guess I pegged her for the wrong type,” Shane murmured, clearly amused by the situation, “She’s a hip old granny, not a Bible-thumpin’ fearmonger.”

“Yeah, well that ‘hip old granny’ is gonna get us thrown out if you don’t shut the hell up.”

Shane raised his hands in surrender, the pad of his right thumb brushing past Ryan’s cheek.

“Alright, alright. No more jabbering.”

“Thank you.”

Ryan reached up and hesitantly patted the back of Shane’s hand once it returned to its resting place on his shoulder. A tiny voice in the back of his head was trying to coax him into doing more than just that though. It wanted him to take hold of that warm hand and lean deeper and deeper into the big guy’s embrace until it was almost impossible to tell where Shane Madej ended and Ryan Bergara began.

But the steadfast little angel that stood on his shoulder held its ground: _push too hard and you’ll end up shoving Shane away_. Of course he wasn’t foolish enough to overstep. The last thing he wanted to do was create a rift between himself and the man he’d grown far too fond of.

So he stayed put, happily settling for the warm arm around his shoulders and the occasional amused hum of Shane’s voice.

* * *

“Well that sucked.”

Ryan gave Shane a forceful shove as they strolled out of the lobby and back into the courtyard out front.

“Oh my God,” Ryan choked, trying his hardest not to laugh at the crude comment, “You’re the biggest film snob I’ve ever met. Can’t you stow the ‘poetic cinema’ bullshit for a few hours and let me enjoy a movie for once?”

“Come on, Ryan. You’re not seriously telling me you thought that Hindenburg of a horror film was good, are you?”

There was a moment of silence as they stared each other down. Shane’s brow raised in anticipation.

“Uh, no. It was terrible.”

The big guy made a face that could only be read as, “ _See? I’m right again_.”

“Wipe that sneer off your face,” Ryan groaned, feigning disgust, “You look like an asshole.”

“Perhaps that’s because I am one.”

“Sad but true. Now the real question here is who’s the bigger asshole? The asshole or the absolute dumpster fire of a human being who hangs out with him?”

“Did you really just refer to yourself as a ‘dumpster fire’?”

“Yes. Yes, I did.”

Shane laughed, the sound ringing in Ryan’s ears like church bells on a Sunday morning. Was it possible to form a religion based around a person’s laughter? Surely there were other people out there who would sing their praises for that beautiful sound

“In that case, you’re my favorite dumpster fire,” Shane mused, “I would happily warm my hands over your putrid flames.”

“Thanks, pal. That means a lot to me.”

Shane’s arm looped around Ryan’s shoulder just as it had during the movie. This time, however, the big guy pulled him in close, pressing their hips together as they walked. Ryan’s eyes bulged at the contact.

“I may be the certified asshole in this relationship, but I still know it’s important to tenderly stoke the flames of my dearest dumpster fire.”

“Why, Mr. Madej,” Ryan managed to reply in a high-pitched, butchered attempt at a Southern belle impersonation, “That is the sweetest thing any man has ever said to me.”

Shane stopped in his tracks and dropped to his knee, taking Ryan’s hand in his own.

“My dearest, Ryan,” he said in his own Southern accent, “Surely you must know how greatly my heart aches for you. Divulge to me your secrets and let us run away together; far from this oppression to the endless rolling hills where we can make love until the sun sets and the crickets sing their beautiful songs like a gentle church choir in the grassy pews of the fields.”

This was a bit. Ryan knew it was. But God did the implications of it all send shockwaves through the synapses of his brain.

_Stay focused, Bergara. Just play along like you always do._

“Mr. Madej, I— I can’t. My mama would be heartbroken if I left home. And daddy...Oh Lord have mercy on us both if my father finds out we’re even talking to one another.”

Shane’s grip tightened around Ryan’s hand, sending a shiver up his arm that immediately veered south when it reached his spine.

“I yearn for you,” Shane continued in desperation, “Every night I have dreamt of your lips and hungered for your love. Please, my darling, tell me I am not alone. Tell me you feel the yearning in your chest. Tell me it is my love that you crave, that _starves_ you when you are without it. Please. I fear I shant survive if I don’t hear you return my affections.”

 _Say one more fucking thing like that and I’m gonna lose my mind_ , Ryan thought to himself, _Acting or not, you sure know how to shoot straight for the heart_.

He reached out and gently brushed a loose strand of hair from Shane’s forehead.

_Commit to the bit, commit to the bit..._

“Of course, my sweet, of course I love you,” he replied, unable to hold back a grin when the sustained feminine persona made his voice crack, “Every inch of me longs to feel your embrace, to be warmed by your love. As terrified as I am of what awaits us, I want you to take me. Whisk me away, take me to that beautiful place where we can love like no one has ever loved before.”

“Say no more, my dearest, we’ll leave now, long before your father suspects we’ve eloped to the countryside."

Shane jumped to his feet, keeping his hand wrapped tightly around Ryan’s as he started running toward the parking lot.

“Hurry, my love, the carriage is waiting!”

Ryan struggled to keep up with his companion’s long legs, relying more on the steady pull of Shane’s arm than his own power. Give a guy a six inch height disadvantage and he’d definitely feel it in a sprinting match.

Shane came to a screeching halt when they reached Ryan’s car, turning to face his companion once again.

“Please, allow me to get the door for you, my sweet,” Shane said softly, waiting patiently for Ryan to unlock the car before prying the door open, “After you.”

Ryan gave him a quizzical look and climbed inside with a halfhearted curtsy. He wasn’t entirely sure what to expect. The bit was already carrying on far beyond what he believed to be reasonable play and yet there they were fooling around like a couple of kids playing pretend in their backyard.

Shane bent down and grabbed Ryan’s hand, pulling it up to his lips and pressing a delicate kiss to his knuckles. Everything Ryan thought he knew about the workings of the universe seemed to fly out the window. His raging heartbeat assumed a pattern that would have sent any innocent man into cardiac arrest. No longer was the Earth spinning steadily on its axis or rotating around the sun. It was spiraling out of control and headed straight for interception with a nearby black hole.

“Good night, my love,” Shane whispered, breath tickling the little hairs on the back of Ryan’s hand, “I shall see you very soon. Perhaps I will even be so blessed as to dream of you.”

Ryan’s heart pounded in his ears like a Taiko drum as he watched Shane’s lips ghost over the back of his fingers before slowly pulling away. Sure enough, that confident, lopsided smirk was returning to the big guy’s face and all commitment to their strange forbidden Southern romance was discarded like week old leftovers.

“You’re a jackass, y’know that right?”

“I know,” Shane beamed as he draped his arm over the car door, “But I’m pretty sure that’s why you keep me around.”

“Right, ‘cause having a jackass for a friend makes me seem so trustworthy.”

“Hard to trust a guy who jokes about murdering his jackass friend...”

“Y’know, I was about to say I had a great time tonight,” Ryan said with slightly narrowed eyes, “But I change my mind. This has been, quite possibly, the worst date I have ever been on.”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

“What makes you think I’m lying?”

“You’ve told me all about your bad dates. I know everything I need to know about you and your romantic history to guarantee that this isn’t the worst of ‘em.”

They exchanged challenging glances, almost daring the other person to admit they were wrong. And, despite how much he could have argued, Ryan knew fully well that he was the guilty party. If this _was_ a date —which it wasn’t, obviously— it certainly wasn’t a bad one. Shane had paid for everything, given Ryan the choice of movie, and even took him back to his car when it was all over. What idiot in their right mind wouldn’t admit that the big guy had been nothing but a gentleman?

“Fine,” he yielded after a moment of silent staring, “This wasn’t the worst date I’ve ever been on—“

Shane shrugged and made that obnoxious I-Told-You-So face that never ceased to grind Ryan’s gears. “I rest my case.”

“— _But_ it’s also not one of the best,” Ryan countered, “Pretty far from making that list actually.”

The big guy feigned offense at the declaration, chin dipping low as his jaw dropped open. “Why, Ryan, I am _appalled_ to hear you say that. I’ve laid my heart out on the line for you and how do you repay me? By crushing it under your crusty ghost hunting boots,” he pouted, “Never in my life have I been so embarrassed.”

“Someone’s gotta keep that ego of yours in check. Inflate that big head any more and you’ll float away.”

“Hey,” Shane said quickly, pointing his index finger at his companion in an almost threatening manner, “I’ll have you know my head is perfectly proportional to my body.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, big guy.”

“I’d sleep a hell of a lot better if you’d actually admit you enjoyed the evening,” Shane replied suggestively, nearly giving Ryan puppy dog eyes to coax him into a confession, “Please, Ryan, I’m sensitive.”

“Oh for the love of— Okay! I had a really good time tonight. Even if you did embarrass me in front of that old lady and forced me to run so hard I blew a hole in my lungs.”

Shane beamed, his smile so wide it looked like it would touch the corner of his eyes. “I knew it.”

Ryan crossed his arms in a haughty manner. “If you knew that was the case, then why bother pestering me about it.”

“Because you’re easy to frazzle. And because I’d much rather hear it from you than myself. Which, for the record, I had a good time too. Always do when I’m with the Bergmeister.”

There was color in Ryan’s cheeks; he could feel that. Hard not to blush, of course, when the man he had very quickly, very heavily started crushing on was telling him exactly what his flimsy little heart wanted to hear.

“Yeah, well, as much as I’d love to sit around and listen to you taunt me in the Regal parking lot,” he said with a sideways glance, “I’d better go home and get some rest. I’ve got a lot of work to do before the shoot on Tuesday.”

“Me too. Gotta get my beauty sleep, pluck my unibrow, maybe do a couple extra push ups in the morning to boost the arm muscles. You never know who might be eyeing your biceps when you’re on camera, y’know...”

“Do you even do push ups normally?”

“Uh, no.”

Ryan wheezed.

“Gotta stay lanky for all the Shaniacs out there. Y’know, the viewers with _real_ taste.”

“That’s it, I’m out of here. Move your arrogant ass so I can close the door.”

Shane laughed and stepped out of the way without question. “Try not to stay up all night thinking about those scary little ghosties.”

“I hate you so much.”

“I know you do.”

“Goodnight, Shane,” Ryan grumbled as he closed the door.

Always one to have the final move, Shane winked and blew him a kiss before strolling away with his hands curled up in his pockets. Even with the window closed, Ryan could hear him whistling a jovial tune, an obvious pep in his step as he wandered into the endless sea of parked cars. Ryan covered his mouth with his hand in a feeble attempt to hide the giant smile that had wormed its way onto his face.

“You’re such an idiot,” he murmured as he watched Shane’s head bob between the vehicles like some oversized Q-tip.

 _And God, do I love that about you_.


	7. Chapter 7

_“I’ll tell you what: if you get scared, I’ll let you hold my hand for free. No surcharge.”_

_Ryan blinked, looking around to find himself seated in an empty movie theater. The screen was pitch black; every chair vacant in the seemingly endless rows that surrounded him. There was a discomforting echo and a dreadful aura of disconnection that only grew worse when he gazed upward to find there was no ceiling overhead. In fact, beyond the chairs and the screen with its massive crimson drapes, there wasn’t anything at all. He was in that void space again, the one where Shane had..._

_Shane._

_A familiar warmth radiated from his left and he turned to find the big guy sitting faithfully at his side, just like he had when they’d gone to see the_ Winchester _movie. There was an expectant look on his face, like he was waiting for an answer to a question he’d long since posed. Realization struck Ryan like a brick._

_“Seems like a hefty discount,” he replied, parroting exactly what had transpired in reality._

_“Only for my most loyal customers.”_

_Ryan looked down to see Shane’s hand sitting palm-down on the armrest between them. It was perfectly placed, just waiting, just begging for Ryan to man up and take it. He swallowed._

_As if sensing his hesitation, Shane laughed. The sound drifted through the air like a decadent perfume, bathing Ryan in a mist of reassurance and comfort._

_“No need to put on that macho facade for me, Bergara.”_

_Ryan’s brow furrowed. “I’m not scared.”_

_“Then take it.”_

_“Huh?”_

_Shane rolled his eyes but the smile that lingered on his face told Ryan he wasn’t truly annoyed, just amused. “My hand, nimnuts. Just hold it. I know you want to.”_

_Ryan’s eyes dropped back down to see the big guy’s hand flip over, palm facing upward and fingers outstretched in anticipation. This was it. A personalized invitation to do exactly what he wanted; a goddamn Fastpass to hold Shane Madej’s hand without needing to beg or bribe._

_He held his breath and reached over, fingertips gently gliding over Shane’s wrist and palm before hooking between the big guy’s own slender digits. Like two Legos locking together, their hands seemed to click into place. There was something delightfully familiar to the touch, as if he and Shane had held hands a million times before. And yet, his heart raced a mile a minute at the implication of it all._

_Too afraid to make eye contact, Ryan stared at the blank screen in front of him. No dazzling spectacle appeared to distract him from the touch and no blaring sound cue gave him reason to flee. He was stuck with his hand intertwined with Shane’s and an overpowering fear that by opening his mouth, he’d ruin everything.But, sure enough, his vocal cords rang out a shameless inquiry before his brain could even try to stop it._

_“Is this a date?”_

_He felt Shane’s eyes fall upon his face and turned to meet his gaze. His companion was by no means offended by the forward question but the upward curve of his brow made it clear to Ryan that he was surprised nonetheless._

_“Do you want it to be?”_

_Ryan blinked, eyes flicking between their hands and Shane’s gentle smile._

_“Yeah. I...I think so.”_

_“Cool. Then it is.”_

_The statement was so matter-of-fact that it gave Ryan whiplash. How could a guy as passionate about music and as undeniably captivating as a performer be so lax when it came to things like this?_

_“So that’s it?” Ryan repeated, “I tell you I want to date you and you just roll with it?”_

_The big guy chuckled, his thumb instinctively brushing over Ryan’s knuckles like the steady stroke of a paintbrush. The grin on his face grew wider and the affectionate gaze in his eyes only softened even more._

_“Ryan, I’ve been willing to roll with whatever you want from the moment you asked me to join Unsolved. If you asked me to run away with you to the Himalayas tomorrow, I wouldn’t hesitate. Regardless of where we are or what we’re doing, all that matters to me is that you’re the one by my side. If you want to be best friends for the rest of our lives, that’s cool with me. But if you want to take things to the next level and hold my hand while we watch movies and talk shit about Steven’s pretentious little foodie videos, then I’m all yours, baby. I just want you.”_

_For a moment, Ryan just sat there, staring at Shane like he was some kind of mesmerizing museum art piece. He had no clue what to say; didn’t even possess the faintest idea as to what response could possibly capture the way he felt. He was floored._

_But suddenly, as if driven by an almighty force he couldn’t see, his body moved on its own. His fingers were curling over Shane’s neck and pulling him down just far enough for Ryan to press their lips together in a fervent kiss. The little hairs on his partner’s chin and upper lip scratched gently at his skin, sending a pleasant shiver down his spine._

_He felt as though he’d fried a chip in his brain. There was little response from his motor functions and very few sparks firing across the synapses of his mind. He wanted to speak, to say something slick and wise and tastefully romantic but he couldn’t form the words. There was only one thought in his mind, one that repeated over and over again like a carousel rotating in the park: I love you, I love you..._

_“I love you.”_

_Regret overcame Ryan like a disease. His cheeks grew hot and his grip on Shane’s hand instinctively loosened. The entirety of his body threatened to recoil in fear at the outburst._

_“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, “I shouldn’t have— I mean, I’m not trying to pressure you into anything, I swear! I just— We’re not—“_

_His wild rambling was cut short when those delicate lips came crashing into his once again. The kiss was chaste and reassuring, like a silent reminder that the big guy was still there by his side; always had been, always would be._

_Ryan’s eyes fluttered as Shane pulled away to grin down at him. It was one of those big, gentle smiles that instantly made him look five years younger. No matter how many times he’d seen it creep its way onto his companion’s face, that smile never ceased to amaze Ryan._

_“Relax,” Shane said softly, a deep chuckle rumbling in his throat, “Don’t give yourself a heart attack before I even get the chance to say ‘I love you too’.”_

_“You do?_ ”

_“Uh, yeah? What part of, ‘Ryan, I would run away with you tomorrow’ confused you?”_

_Ryan snorted and gently shoved Shane with his free hand. “I hate you,” he grumbled halfheartedly._

_“I know you do.”_

_And with another smile, the big guy was leaning in to kiss him. Ryan’s eyes fluttered closed, all focus on the delightful scratch of facial hair against his jaw and the warmth of their hands pressed together._

_Off in the distance, a voice called his name. It was faint and disconnected, registering just above a whisper in the darkness of the theater._

“Ryan...”

_Shane kissed him harder._

“Ryan.”

_His lips parted, welcoming the advancement of his partner’s tongue, which slipped into Ryan’s mouth with ease and began trailing curiously across his—_

“Ryan!”

He jerked awake, forehead slamming into his desk with a solid thud. He groaned. Crawling out of the haze of his slumber, he looked up at the figure now standing beside him. The second he realized who it was, his eyes widened.

“Oh. Hey, TJ,” he murmured with an awkward grin, “What’s up?”

The bearded Assistant Director glanced at his watch. “Not much...Oh, well, other than the fact that we were supposed to start shooting fifteen minutes ago but couldn’t even get camera rolling because our co-lead didn’t bother to show up.”

Ryan’s stomach plummeted to his shoes. “Oh shit.”

TJ’s eyes were piercing, scrutinizing his every move as he stumbled to his feet and hooked on his glasses over his ears. He didn’t even bother to throw on a jacket or slip his contacts in. If he showed up any later than he already was, Katie and the rest of the crew would have his head on a silver platter at the next company function.

He trailed TJ to the studio and all but threw himself into the chair beside Shane. The infamous manila folder was already waiting for him on the table like a sacred book just waiting to be opened by one of its devout followers.

“Hey, welcome to the party,” Shane teased as Ryan scanned the script with the ferocity of a tiger, “I was worried the ghosts had gotten their grimy hands on ya and swooped you away for good.”

“I wish that were the case. A gangly little ghost would be a hell of a lot less scary than the death glare TJ gave me when he found me asleep at my desk.”

“You were _sleeping_? Oh, no. Don’t tell me you stayed up late working on the v.o. last night...”

“I did.”

Shane sighed. “Ryan, you gotta stop taking work home with you. You’re gonna burn yourself out.”

A gentle hand fell upon his knee, drawing his attention from the script in his hand. Sure enough, he found Shane’s fingers draped over the delicate curve of his knee. Heat rose to Ryan’s cheeks.

“Take it easy every once in a while, would ya?” The big guy continued, “I don’t wanna get a call from some witless resident at the hospital telling me my buddy stressed himself straight into a coma or something.”

Ryan laughed. “I don’t think that’s physically possible.”

“How would you know? You’re not a doctor.”

“My dad’s a medical professional. He’s pretty familiar with the functionality of the human body.”

“Your dad cleans people’s teeth and shoves goodie bags full of floss into their hands like some kind of sick Santa Claus imposter. That man is not qualified to weigh in on the complexities of the human psyche. And, frankly, neither are you.”

“Oh sure. All this coming from the guy who showed up to work looking like Joe Pesci in _Home Alone_ ,” Ryan retorted with a crooked smirk, “I mean really. What’s up with the beanie. It’s like seventy-five degrees outside.”

Shane reached up and adjusted the black cap on his head. “I’m having a bad hair day, okay?”

“Has there ever been a day that _wasn’t_ a bad for your hair?”

“Touché, Ryan. Touché.”

* * *

Once filming wrapped, Ryan trudged his way back into the office to gather the belongings he had hastily left behind earlier that afternoon. To his surprise, he wasn’t the only person to make the return venture.

“You don’t have to wait for me,” he said when he noticed Shane standing by his desk.

The big guy shrugged, a warm grin already worming its way onto his lips. “I know. It sure would be silly though if I drove all the way home just to text you and ask if you wanna have dinner with me.”

Ryan nearly slammed his elbow into the corner of the desk as he shot up. “Dinner?”

“Yeah, you know that evening time meal that human beings traditionally consume?”

“I know what dinner is, jackass. I guess I just...wasn’t expecting to have any plans tonight.”

“Well, after watching you throw that little hissy fit at the concession stand over the weekend, I figured I better give you the chance to pay me back for our little movie date.”

“I didn’t throw a fit,” Ryan grumbled, trying not to think about the way his companion once again referred to their excursion as a date.

“Ryan, I’ve seen little kids with more discreet pouty faces than yours.“

“I don’t pout.”

Ryan marched over and ripped the beanie from Shane’s head. The brown locks that had been forcefully contained beneath the covering sprung free. With hair lunging out in every direction and eyes heavy with exhaustion, he looked remarkably like a kid whose three month long science experiment had gone terribly awry.

“What are you doing?”

Ryan reached up and raked his fingers through the big guy’s hair. “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m fixing your rat’s nest of a hairdo,” he said as he battled with a particularly stubborn strand, “There’s no way in hell I’m going to dinner with a guy who looks like he sells crack cocaine.”

“Oh, come on. When was the last time you saw a drug dealer strutting down the street in a turtleneck?”

“I’ve been living in southern California my whole life, pal. I’ve seen just about every shit stain and freak show LA has to offer.”

“And yet you won’t go out with me if I have my hair cooped up in a beanie?”

“Just because I live in a filthy, trash-ridden city, doesn’t mean I have to lower my standards to the same level.”

He tucked the black cap into Shane’s messenger bag and leaned back to appreciate his work. Given the fact that he didn’t have any sort of comb or brush to wage a proper war, he’d quite successfully managed to tame the beast that called Shane’s scalp home.

“How do I look?” The big guy asked with a wiggle of his eyebrows, “Dignified? Dashing? Maybe even a tad bit sexy?”

“Let’s just say you look _human_.”

Shane laughed. “Well, that’s more than can usually be said for me so I’ll take it.”

“Good. ‘Cause that’s as much as I’m flattering you. Gotta keep that big fat ego of yours in check.”

* * *

After a thorough debate, they ended up at the Pink’s hot dog stand just south of Santa Monica Boulevard. As usual, the place was hopping with customers of every color and background. Tourists and Angelinos alike were lined up to get a taste of the infamous LA dogs and bury themselves in mounds of chili cheese fries. Ryan couldn’t blame them. He’d been frequenting Pink’s for years and he still couldn’t get enough.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get over that first snap,” Shane said after taking a bite of his bacon dog, “Y’know that juicy little pop you get when you bite into it? That’s how you know you’ve got yourself a real good weiner.”

Soda shot straight up into Ryan’s nose as he choked on a laugh. His entire face went red, eyes squinting shut as he buried his face in his hands and succumbed to the fizzing sensation in his nasal cavity. Despite the agony and the tears burning in his eyes, he couldn’t help but chuckle at his companion’s comment.

“Whoa! You alright there, pal?”

Ryan felt a warm hand press against his shoulder blade and rub gently at his back. If it weren’t for the fact that his cheeks were already flush from the strain of snorting carbonation, he might have blushed at the contact.

“For the love of—“ He coughed violently into his fist a few times before continuing, “Please stop calling them ‘weiners’. Especially if you’re gonna use the words ‘juicy little pop’ in the same sentence.”

Unsurprisingly, the big guy feigned innocence. “What’s so wrong about what I said? A weiner is a weiner, Ryan. Long and skinny or fat and stubby, a good weiner’s gotta have some juice if you really want it to sit well on the tongue.”

Ryan stared at him, watery eyes narrowed in a challenge. He could see the corners of Shane’s mouth twitching as he popped a pair of fries onto his tongue and felt his own lips tremble under the pressure. How long could they keep a straight face before one of them broke? How long would it take for one of them to absolutely lose it and—

They both erupted with laughter and, within seconds, they were folding in on themselves as they slapped the tabletop. Shane covered his mouth with the back of his hand, all but choking on the half-chewed fries between his teeth.

“Oh God,” Ryan groaned, “Close your mouth!”

“What? Does the sight of mashed taters make you think of ghostly white specters?”

Ryan reached out and nabbed the fries in Shane’s hand before he could pop them in his mouth. “No. But it’s disgusting and makes me regret bringing you along for the meal.”

“Y’know, you always say you regret taking me places, but I don’t think you really mean it.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Your smile.”

There was an affectionate look in Shane’s eye that made Ryan’s breath catch in his throat. He grabbed his soda like a lifeline, reeling it in to his lips in the hopes of looking calm and collected. “What about it?”

“You try so hard to roast me but you’ve always got that big ol’ smile on your face,” Shane said softly as he reached for more fries, “Keep up that tough guy act all you want, Bergara. I know how you really feel.”

 _Jesus Christ. He knows_ , that fearful little voice in the back of his head shrieked, _He fucking knows!_

His fingers tightened around his cup, knuckles paling from the pressure. “Oh yeah? And how do I really feel?”

“Isn’t it obvious? You’re jealous that I’m the funny one. Trust me, man, I’ve seen you snoopin’ through the BUN comments looking for validation from your Boogara fiends.”

Ryan exhaled, the grip on his cup loosening as a massive weight lifted from his body. Never in his life had he been so relieved to hear the big guy get something so absurdly wrong.

“Which, I don’t blame you for either,” Shane added between bites, “Being the funny one has its perks. I gotta admit though, a part of me wishes I could say I was the cute one.”

“The cute one?”

“Yeah, man. The borderline Too-Attractive-To-Function title? I’m afraid you’ve got that one in the bag.”

“I’m not— Wait a minute. Where the hell did you hear that?”

Shane took a disgustingly large bite of his hot dog, eyes pointedly locked on Ryan as he chewed. With cheeks inflated like a chipmunk storing acorns for transport, he looked goofier than ever. The taunting gaze certainly wasn’t helping him make a case for himself as a real charmer either.

“You’re gross.”

Once the food was forced down his esophagus, Shane laughed. “Just one of the many reasons I can’t claim that illustrious title.”

“What are you even talking about? Who’s giving out these titles? Is this another Twitter trend I’m somehow missing out on?”

“I can’t betray my sources, Ryan. They’re strictly confidential.”

“Alright, fine. But be sure to send your ‘strictly confidential sources’ an invitation to the ceremony where I present you with the Biggest Jackass of the Year award.”

Shane gasped and covered his mouth with his fingers, eyes bulging with false surprise. “Did I actually win this year?”

“Hold on. Let me check.” Ryan pulled out his phone a pretended to scroll through the ballot. “Yup. Believe it or not, it was a landslide victory. Harvey Weinstein didn’t stand a chance.”

Shane kissed his fingertips and raised them up to the sky in clear mockery of the _Hunger Games_ salute. “This one’s for you, momma.”

“She must be so proud.”

“Hey, keep the faith in your children at a bare minimum and anything they do will make you happy. I’m pretty sure she was floating in a pool of ecstasy when she found out I made it to LA without sawing my own toes off for spare change.”

“Your mom is an angel; I will say that. My mother, on the other hand, is…Well, let’s just put it this way: instead of punishing me by taking away my gaming system like most parents do, she staged an alien abduction and threw a wig into the dryer to make me believe she was a shapeshifting alien who violently maimed my mother’s corpse and stole her clothes.”

“Did you shit your pants?”

“Oh, one hundred percent.”

“God, I love your mom. Funniest woman on the planet.”

“Y’know, I’d tell her you said that, but I’m afraid of what it means for my future. The last thing I need is to have the two of you join forces.”

“Greatness recognizes greatness.”

* * *

With their bellies full, they made their way back to the office to collect Shane’s car and go their separate ways for the evening.

“So, are we even now?”

Ryan put the car in park and threw the big guy a scathing glance. “ _Even_? Yeah right. Two hot dogs, two fries, and a soda each and the price didn’t even match half of what you paid at the movie theater.”

“Well, I guess you owe me another dinner then, huh?”

Something delicate and wonderful fluttered in Ryan’s stomach. “I— Yeah. I guess I do,” he replied as casually as he could, “But next time, you’re driving. I’m tired of chauffeuring your ass around. It’s one thing to have to do it for Unsolved but this... Let’s just put it this way: I’m not your Uber.”

“You’re not my— Then whose car am I in?”

Ryan snorted at the alarmed expression on his companion’s face. “Alright. Get out before I get tired of waiting and just drag your ass back to my apartment.”

“You mean we could have a sleepover?” Shane exclaimed with childish glee, hands clapping together as he bounced in his seat. “I love sleepovers, Ryan! Can we have one? Can we, can we, can we?”

“I’m gonna have to pass on that one. Sorry, pal, but I’ve seen how you sleep. Last thing I need is to have you kicking me in the nuts in the middle of the night.”

“You’re probably right. The likelihood is high... Ah, well. Off to my humble abode I go,” Shane said as he pushed the door open, “See you tomorrow?”

Ryan smiled. “Whether you like it or not.”

The grin that eased its way onto Shane’s lips was incredibly soft. Those gentle eyes were so full of adoration that Ryan thought he would drown in them. A part of him really wished he could.

_I’m all yours, baby. I just want you._

“Tomorrow it is. ‘Night, Ryan.”

“‘Night,” Ryan replied quietly.

He gave a small wave of the hand as Shane climbed out of the car and shut the door, eyes lingering on the window once his counterpart was out of sight. A wistful sigh danced across his tongue to meet the steady flow of the cabin AC.

For the briefest moment, a fearless little warrior in the back of his head had fought for control over his body. All it wanted was to reach out and take Shane’s hand, to show the goofy idiot he was falling for that he wasn’t a complete wuss. If there was one thing his dreams were telling him, it was that there was a very good chance that he wasn’t alone in this fight. Maybe if he gathered the courage to make a move, he’d find out the big guy was right there waiting to reciprocate. It takes two to tango, but it takes one fool to get the whole thing started.

 _Who am I kidding? It’s all in my head_ , he thought as he sank into his seat, _He’s not some starry-eyed prince waiting to sweep me off my feet. And I sure as hell ain’t the dazzling princess he’s looking for. I’m just...me — the scaredy-cat, dumpster fire who hides in the crowd and pines after his best friend like some silly handmaiden._

He groaned, disappointed in himself once more. When was he going to learn? Dreams are dreams. No matter how real they felt, no matter how desperately he yearned for them, they weren’t going to come true. Shane Madej was his best friend and that’s all he was ever going to be.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, well, well, look who’s back. To all those who have been anxiously awaiting an update, I apologize for the hiatus. Life has been a little overwhelming lately so I decided to take a step back and focus on taking care of myself. Hopefully y’all have stuck around and will continue to support the story as it progresses. :)

Ryan had only just finished showering and getting dressed for the day when he heard a knock at his apartment door the following morning. With the clock just shy of 7:30 and his roommates still fast asleep in their respective rooms, he was completely startled by the sound. Who in their right mind would be dropping by this early in the day?

“Morning, sleeping beauty!”

Ryan jerked backward when he pried the front door open to find Shane’s cheery face beaming down at him.

“Jesus Christ. What the hell are you doing here?”

“What does it look like?” Shane said as he handed him a steaming paper to-go cup, “I’ve fetched you your morning cuppa.”

Ryan blinked, fingers curling daintily around the cup. “You drove all the way over here just to bring me coffee?”

“And to give you a ride to the office. You made a good point last night about unwillingly being stuck as my chauffeur; thought it might be nice to return the favor and drive you around for once.”

“Oh. Well, thanks, man,” Ryan replied with a stunned smile, “I mean, you really didn’t have to. You know I was just playing around when I said that, right?”

“I don’t  have to do anything except pay taxes and keep my corporeal form alive by eating and sleeping. But that doesn’t mean I can’t do something nice for somebody else.”

“You truly are a being of sacrifice. What did we mortals do to deserve your presence, O’ Great One?”

Shane hunched over in a humble bow. “Please, please. No need to grovel. I am just like the rest of you.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Ryan laughed, “Hell, I’m still not even convinced that you’re actually human.”

With a voice like yours, you could be an angel for all I know .

“Human, alien, what does it matter?” Shane grinned and stepped inside so Ryan could close the door behind them, “I’ve got bagels and a functioning automobile. You honestly can’t ask for much more in this economy.”

Ryan frowned when he finally took note of the paper bag under the big guy’s arm. “Bagels? Shane, I owe you like two whole meals and you’re over here hand-delivering me breakfast!”

“Relax. Einstein Bros was having a buy one, get one half off shindig. I think I can spare a couple extra bucks for coffee and a bagel without breaking the bank. Besides, you don’t have to pay me back for anything. A treat is a treat.”

A resigned sigh slipped out of Ryan’s throat. As much as he loved being gifted little things like this, he couldn’t help but feel guilty. What was Shane doing being so generous lately anyway? Was the guy  trying to win his heart? If so, he was doing a damn good job of it.

“Now, now,” Shane teased with a knowing smirk, “Don’t you start pouting on me.”

“I don’t pout.”

“I hate to burst your blissfully ignorant little bubble, but you do. And I’m not saying this to rile you up or anything, but I think it’s kinda cute.”

Blush crawled up Ryan’s neck to settle on his cheeks. He wanted to be mad about the comment, he really did. After all, what man wanted to hear such a belittling taunt from another guy? It was a battle tactic, a means by which to get him fired up and eager to bite back. But Ryan was simply too smitten to overlook the fact that the suave asshole he had very quickly, very carelessly fallen for had called him “cute”.

Shane must have noticed the color on his face too because the smile resting at his lips only grew wider among the deafening silence of Ryan’s failure to respond. “See? There you go proving my point once again.”

“Shut up. I’m not cute,” Ryan grumbled as he snagged the bagel bag from Shane’s grasp, “And I don’t pout.”

“Oh, sorry. My bad. You don’t pout; you sulk.”

Ryan grabbed one of the bread knives from the cutlery drawer and pointed the serrated blade at his counterpart from the other side of the kitchen counter. “You wanna keep mouthing off or do you want me to toast these bagels so we can get to work on time?”

Shane pursed his lips, fingernails scratching at the scruff of his chin as he contemplated the remark. “I don’t know, man,” he murmured, “I’m real tempted to play hooky and just hang out here with the rowdy boys.”

Ryan glared at him.

“Alright, fine. Toast the dough disks. I owe the Worth It team a QC anyway.”

“You better show up for that. Last time I rolled in late to one of Steven’s QC’s, he spent the entire session burrowing those dagger eyes into the back of my head. Do you know how hard it is to focus on a video when you’ve got somebody giving you the death glare the whole time?”

Shane laughed. “I do actually. You’re not exactly subtle when you’re annoyed with me during an Unsolved review.”

“And you’re not exactly subtle when you’re  trying to annoy me.”

“Fair point. I yield.”  
  


* * *

  
Ryan didn’t see much of Shane that day. Sure, they’d spent the morning commute joking around and enjoying some one-on-one time, but once they’d actually reached the office, the big guy was as good as gone.

Every project circulating the building seemed to demand Shane’s attention, as if all the pies he had managed to dip his fingers in recently would blow sky high if he didn’t talk an editor or two down from a psychotic episode. It wasn’t necessarily the fact that he had an eye for detail so much as he was an inhumanly calming voice of reason. Sometimes all a team needed was an honest review and boy was Shane the guy to provide it.

While most people sat around afraid of voicing their opinions, he was never too shy to admit when he’d lost interest or been rendered utterly confused by the content presented to him. As blunt as he could be though, he was never rude. There was always genuine support in his feedback, something Ryan valued greatly whenever he made the bold move to take hold of the reins in post on an Unsolved episode. If he could trust anyone at Buzzfeed to help him get where he really wanted to go with a project, it was Shane Madej.

_ Can’t trust him enough to admit you know his secret though, can you? _

Ryan frowned. It was only two days until Shane’s next performance at the Red Lion and he still hadn’t managed to find a way to bring it up. Hell, he wasn’t sure he ever  wanted to mention it. After two successful stakeouts —if you could call helplessly pining in the back of the bar a “success”— the big guy was blissfully unaware that he had uncovered the reasoning behind his withdrawal from their Friday night hangouts.

How long could this all last though? There were only a few more weeks left of Shane’s residency at the tavern. After that, God only knows what he’d be doing. Ryan possessed no knowledge of his musical history or his plans for the future. If he didn’t find a way to talk about this whole ordeal, his relationship with Shane’s performances was on the fast track to Nowheresville.

“So, how are things going with you two?”

Ryan nearly leaped out of his seat. His feet, which had been resting comfortably on his desk while he read over the latest company newsletter, flew spastically up toward the ceiling as he fought to sit upright once again. Underneath his body, the chair wobbled and threatened to topple backward. It was a goddamn miracle he didn’t end up crashing melon first into the floor.

“Wow,” Steven said, arms crossing over his chest as he settled into Shane’s empty chair, “Caught you daydreaming, didn’t I?”

Ryan clutched at the desk to steady himself and threw the newcomer a sharp glare. “I guess you could say that. What’re you doing over here anyways? Don’t you have QC’s today?”

The flippant wave of the hand that Steven gave in response would have made any hairdresser jealous. “QC’s, schmoocies,” he replied, “Listening to the chaos that is your love life is way more entertaining than watching myself eat Korean barbecue for the hundredth time this week.”

“I can imagine. Nothing attractive about watching a guy shove slabs of meat down his throat.”

“Is your entire purpose in life to disgust and disappoint those around you, or am I the only one burdened by this curse?”

“Pretty sure Jake would argue the former.”

“That’s great,” Steven said as he slowly spun himself in a semi-circle, “I’m truly honored to be a part of your journey toward fulfillment.”

“Gee, thanks.” Ryan leaned back in his chair and gave his counterpart a skeptical glance. “Do you actually want to talk to me about my —and I can’t believe I’m going to say this but I guess there isn’t really another word for it— ‘love life’ or are you just looking for a reason to make fun of me?”

“Ryan.”

“What?”

“I want you to look me dead in the eyes right now.”

“I’ve been looking at you the entire time, you psycho!”

“Good, ‘cause I’m going to be very truthful with you about this.”

“Okay...”

“As both your hardworking co-worker and your caring, thoughtful friend, I need you to know that I want nothing more than to see you succeed and find happiness in this world. God put us on this path together to see each other through difficult challenges. If you genuinely have feelings for someone, of course I want to know about it and help you connect with them. I am by no means a matchmaker or mindreader, but that doesn’t mean I can’t do my best to guide you forward. The least I can do for the people I care about is offer them an ear and support them in their endeavors.”

Ryan felt as though the wind had been knocked right out of him. No matter how many times Steven talked him through a crisis or gave him advice on some silly side project, he never ceased to be floored by the man’s selflessness. If guardian angels were real, Steven had to be one of them.

“Holy shit, Steven. I don’t know what to say. That’s...That’s really nice of you.”

“That being said,” Steven added, a tiny smirk inching across his lips, “I can and will continue to make fun of you every chance I get.”

“There it is.”

“Seeing as you two have been buddy-buddy around the office lately, I’m going to assume things are going pretty well. You drop any hints? Make any bold moves?”

Ryan stifled a laugh just thinking about his lack of said ‘bold moves’. “I took your advice and brought him lunch last week. Thought that went pretty well.”

“You tell him why you acted like a weirdo when he walked in on your depressing Del Taco lunch?”

“No,” he said curtly, eyes narrowing with an empty threat of retaliation, “I just apologized for the emotional curveball and he accepted it without much of a thought.”

“Typical Shane move.”

“That’s for damn sure. I’m out here trying not to choke on my own anxiety and there he goes paying for our trip to the movies like he’s some old school Victorian gentleman.”

“Whoa. Hold on,” Steven interjected, “I need you to take like five step backs. He took you to the movies?”

“I mean, we  met at the movies. We made a deal on Friday: he’d pay for the tickets and I’d pay for the snacks. But when we got there and ordered everything, he whipped out his card and paid for everything before I could even really argue.”

The mixture of shock and intrigue on Steven’s face was unmistakable. Ryan blushed.

“Nothing actually happened, of course,” he added quickly, “We just shared popcorn and joked around in the parking lot afterward.”

“Seriously? You mean to tell me he bought you overpriced snack bar food and paid for both tickets but didn’t make any kind of move? No hand brushing against the thigh or anything like that?”

“At one point he draped his arm over my shoulders but other than that there wasn’t—“

Steven’s hands came crashing into his own cheekbones as he let out an obnoxious groan. He shook his head, face buried in his cupped palms.

Ryan frowned. “What?”

“Are you kidding me?” Steven let his hands drag down his cheeks and chin until they fell back in his lap with a gentle patting sound. “I always knew you were pretty oblivious when it came to social cues, but this is next level.”

“Alright, look, you don’t have to be a dick about it.”

“Ryan, he pulled ‘The Move’ on you. It’s the oldest trick in the dating game that nearly every guy has used to show interest in someone and yet here you are, sitting in front of me days later, telling me nothing happened. Are you lying to yourself about this ‘cause it’s easier than facing the facts or do you really think nothing happened?”

Ryan’s cheeks felt like they’d just been pulled out of a pot of boiling water. Not a soul in the entire building was looking at him aside from Steven but if anyone had told him there was a spotlight pointed directly at his desk, he would have believed it. What he would have given to be invisible at that moment.

“I’m not—“ He hesitated, eyes flicking around the room to confirm that Steven’s attention was the only one he held, “Look, I know it probably sounds like he was making a move but this is Shane we’re talking about. You know how he acts, how we are together. We goof off and do bits. I’m sure he was just trying to get a razz out of me.”

Steven had never been a man of rage or violence of any sort. But the look of exasperation on his face told Ryan he was definitely weighing the pros and cons of driving the heel of his palm into Ryan’s jaw. Patience would always be a virtue, but poor Steven was clearly running out of it.

“As strongly as I disagree with you, let’s just say you’re right and it wasn’t a move,”he said haughtily, “Did you guys do anything else since then?”

“Not really. We went to Pink’s after our Unsolved shoot yesterday. I felt like I owed him for the movie night so I thought it would be fair for me to pay.”

“Any interesting topics of conversation over dinner?”

“You mean aside from weiner jokes and the usual roasting? Nah,” Ryan said with a shrug, “The only weird thing was when he referred to me as ‘the cute one’. I don’t know where the hell he got that from but I guess people online have dubbed him ‘the funny one’ and me as ‘the cute one’? Maybe the ghouligans were throwing down on Twitter and I missed it somehow. I don’t know.”

For a moment, Steven just stared at him. The expression on his face was unbearably deadpan and made Ryan feel like an art piece being scrutinized by yet another heartless critic.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he nearly whined.

“Like what, Ryan?”

“Like I’m an idiot!”

“Well, you know what they say...”

“I swear to God, if you so much as whisper ‘if the shoe fits’ right now, I’m going to tender my resignation and deck you in the chin.”

Steven threw his hands up in surrender. “Fine. I won’t say it.”

“Thank you.”

“In all seriousness, though, are you really telling me that you don’t see the potential motivation behind his actions?” Steven asked, clearly dumbfounded by the picture that had been painted before him, “I can’t guarantee it a hundred percent, but if I’m going with my gut instinct, there’s something going on. Men don’t randomly refer to their best friend as cute and take them on movie dates.”

“I hate to play Devil’s Advocate but Shane’s not a normal guy. The dude wrote an epic about a hot dog!”

“That’s very true. Doesn’t change my opinion on the matter though.”

Ryan let out a heavy sigh. “And what do you want me to do about all this, Mr. Love Expert? I’m not about to risk my friendship and career by confessing with just a _hunch_ that my feelings will be reciprocated.”

“And I’m not suggesting you do that either,” his counterpart said gently, “I just want you to keep an open mind as you continue on. You’ve got yourself so wound up in doubt that it could be blinding you to the reality of the situation. He cares about you. Let him show you that.”

A soft smile found its way onto Ryan’s lips. Of course Shane cared about him. They were best friends after all. But to hear someone else reference the reality of their relationship out loud with such affection made him feel as though he were floating among the clouds.

“Y’know, you’re not half bad at giving advice. Maybe you should write your own  _Chicken Soup for the Soul_ book.”

“I’m going to take your deflective joke as an indication that you know I’m right. So, thank you.” Steven rose from Shane’s chair, arms slumping across his chest as he towered over Ryan’s reclined figure. “Now why don’t you get back to work? Something tells me it wouldn’t be good for your future career to get caught sleeping on the job again.”

Ryan paled. “How did you find out about that?”

“Word travels fast.”

_ Dammit, TJ. Who did you snitch to? _

“In that case, try not to run your mouth about this, huh?” Ryan replied, “I don’t want Zach or Keith outing me in front of the whole damn office.”

“And damage your delicate hetero reputation? I would never.”

With blush rising to his cheeks once again, Ryan bid Steven farewell and gave a curt wave of the hand.

He watched as his counterpart headed for the ADR rooms. An aura of comforting warmth enveloped him. He trusted Steven wholeheartedly. Sure they tossed threats around like unformed pizza dough and made fun of each other every chance they got. But there was no denying the fact that, at the end of the day, they were friends who would risk it all to help one another. Hell, if things went south and Shane somehow managed to break his heart, Steven Lim was the only person in the world who would be able to get him back on his feet.

_ Fuck, Steven, let’s just hope you’re right about all of this. _


End file.
